Unsanctioned Savior
by Sarah Rose Serena
Summary: I was frightened, alone, and far too damaged for my own good.That's when I met him...my savior. The only one I wanted was the one person I wasn't allowed to have. He said it was wrong, but we both felt how right it wasn't supposed to be. ExB AH AU
1. Prologue

**~A Twilight Story~**

**Unsanctioned Savior**

**Prologue**

The sky was bright and the air smelled of salt water. The plant life around our home was lacking in the wildlife department. Every tree was planted and structured, along with every bush and flower. Life in Jacksonville was just about as rough as I imagined life in Forks with Charlie. I hadn't been too excited about the move to Jacksonville when mom had first brought it up—in fact, I was absolutely dreading it—but it sure was a step up from Washington, sharing a bathroom with my distant father under constant clouds and rain.

I rolled over in bed, crossing the room towards the window for my newest ritual—staring out at the overly sunny and cheerful atmosphere of my new home. I picked up the calendar lying on my desk that had yet to be hung, and groaned at the date. It was the 12th of December—meaning today was the day. The day I'd been looking dreadfully forward to—if the oxymoron is understandable. Near Christmas time and the weather was barely 78 degrees. I officially hated Florida—not that I wished it were colder… or snowing—god forbid—but it just seemed wrong to me—beach weather during Christmas. Renee and Phil had left three days ago for another business trip. Phil being the big and literally bad baseball player who's work requires a lot of constant travel, and Renee being the newish supportive wife who followed him all across the country—aka mom.

I made it downstairs and into the kitchen without a single stumble—I was proud of myself—and started mixing some pancake batter in the brand new, unused mixing bowl that matched the set of china patterns Renee had been so insistent on having to replace our old ones. New china set for a new kitchen—or that's what she'd told me proudly when she dragged me shopping with her. There was a lot of newness in this new house—not that it mattered much to me. I figured I ought to have a good breakfast today, might help me endure this appointment.

I finished my breakfast and hopped in the shower, making sure to avoid the mirrors—which was not easy seeing as the upstairs bathroom contained three different full-size mirrors. I was just thankful there wasn't one in the shower. I didn't think I could deal with that. I dried my hair and dressed in dark, low-rider jeans and a long sleeve grey and white striped shirt before tossing a black Clash t-shirt over it. My worn out sneakers needed new laces, but were otherwise still wearable. On my way out the door, I stopped to check the messages after seeing the red light flashing. I listened to two different 10 minute long messages from Renee, one from my new school's A.P, most likely checking out if my ditch day excuse was legit, and one from the assistant from the office reminding me off my appointment at 4. Not that I needed reminding for that—it has been the only thing on my mind since I scheduled it three weeks ago, and it has been steadily wearing on my nerves. I had made sure to make the appointment during a time I knew Renee and Phil would be on the road. I definitely did not want my mother knowing about this. It would just lead to unnecessary worry, and then it would lead to questions that would lead to answers I could never give. It wasn't that I was second guessing my decision. I knew I needed this. I was just nervous. And I just hoped I'd made the right decision—going to this Dr. Cullen. He seemed a good choice when I was researching doctors in the area. But it was a difficult thing to maneuver. I didn't want my parent to know I was going to him, yet I'm only 17, so it made the whole thing tricky. I'd saved up more than enough money in my college fund to have no problem paying for it, especially seeing as I no longer planned to go to college. Not since three months ago, before we'd moved away from Phoenix.

I started up the _02_ Nissan Sentra Phil had gotten me for my birthday, and made my way across town, towards the shopping center. I needed to pick up a few things before my appointment. I had been putting off shopping since we'd moved. I needed new clothes, and odds and ends of household things, and it was getting to the point where I couldn't wait any longer. I figured I might as well lump the unwanted tasks together and get them all over with on the same day.

The new school was okay—the student body was twice what it was in Phoenix—so it was easier to stay lost in the background. That's where I was… in the background. No one noticed me, and that was exactly how the biggest part of me wanted it to stay. There was only the small part of me that wished for less loneliness. But it's not like there was anyone around that I would appreciate my time with. Everyone here was so carefree and chipper. I hated chipper. I despised carefree. And the constant bright smiles just drove me insane.

When 3:50 rolled around, I had already finished all the shopping I was willing to take and was sitting in the food court sipping absently on a coke. The platter of fries in front of me went untouched. That was another thing I was trying to ignore—my decrease in appetite. I knew what the problems were, but I was just unsure if I even cared enough to try to fix them. I seriously doubted they could be fixed. It's not like there's any kind of cure for something like this. That's just not how it works. You find me a cure for life, and I'll be happy to fix it. And I'm not talking about suicide. There's just no way to even contemplate that. I could never be that selfish. Besides, to want to kill yourself badly enough to actually do it, you'd have to care enough whether you lived or died. Which I do not—so you see my problem.

I left the shopping center and crossed the road towards the business center—a large five story building that held about ten different offices in it. Everything was clumped together in _centers_ around here. Another thing I couldn't stand. I stepped onto the elevator, squeezing in between a frazzled mother and her screaming five year old and a pissed looking teenager with short purple hair. I internally rolled my eyes at the small child, and considered adding a few purple streaks to my long chocolate waves. I brushed off the idea a few seconds later. Renee would like it, but it's just not my thing. I stopped at the third floor and got off, walking down a long, extremely plain winding hallway with a few dark doors scattered here and there. I stopped near the end of the hall where a wooden door held a plaque on it that told me it was exactly where I needed to be.

I entered the office just as the last patient was leaving the waiting room. There was a sullen woman sitting in a waiting chair in the corner holding her bag tightly to her chest in nervousness as I made my way up to the counter where the glass sheet separated me from the assistant. The woman looked to be in her mid-twenties, with beautiful curly blonde hair that reached her shoulders. She smiled kindly at me and asked for my information. Behind her were about three different library shelves full of files. She told me to take a seat. I waited about five minutes, staring at the only other door in the room—which held another plaque with words engraved into it.

_Dr. Cullen_

_Psy.D _

Yep, that's right. Dr. Cullen, clinical psychologist. I'm not ashamed, or embarrassed like the woman in the corner. I need to talk to someone, and there's no one else that's safe to talk to. The only person I even have contact with besides Renee and Phil, is our neighbor, Marcus. He's 18 and a senior in the same school as me. But he is definitely out. I'll get to him later on, but let's just say that he may be a small part of why I'm coming here. Well, that's a lie, but he sure isn't helping.

The door opened, and a short red head came out, dressed like a fashion model. The woman clutching her bag in the corner leapt from her seat and scurried across the room, and the two women left together, whisper-arguing with each other. The pretty assistant behind the counter appeared and motioned for me to follow her. She led me through the door, and into another hallway. A few doors down she stopped, told me to go on in, and then disappeared around a corner. I waited a moment with my hand frozen on the doorknob, and took a deep, calming breath as I braced myself. I swung the door open timidly, walking into the office. The man was standing with his back to me, looking out the full length window behind his large, rich wooden desk that looked like it cost more than my car. The room was lined with dark oak bookshelves covered with mostly old textbooks that looked like first editions with scripture written on the black bindings. There were two overstuffed reading chairs situated beside each other facing a leather love-seat. The floor was dark wood, but there was an antique rug thrown over it centered in the middle of the room. There's no way this guy makes enough money to afford this office; a psychiatrist maybe, but a clinical psychologist—no way.

He was probably at least almost a foot taller than me, wearing black trousers with a dark blue dress shirt un-tucked. It looked like half of a designer suit. His hair was thick and looked extra soft with a shade of reddish-brown that went well with the suit. Yeah, this guy definitely has funds from outside resources. I wonder whether he does something illegal on the side… or has a sugar momma supporting him. When he turned around to face me with a crooked grin and vivid green eyes that nearly stopped my heart, I reconsidered the sugar momma thing. He probably has some supermodel girlfriend who swoons over him, handing over all her big bucks. Yeah, that's definitely it. He rounded his desk, coming up to me smoothly. He stopped a foot away, taking my messenger bag from my shoulder as he smiled reassuringly at me. That's when I realized I was still standing there with my hand on the doorknob like an idiot. I was busy standing there in my observations, staring up at him suspiciously as I tried to ignore that increase in my heart rate and the tingling running through me.

"Miss Swan?" His velvet voice asked, stepping back and gesturing towards the furniture in the room. I nodded my head in affirmative, finally snapping out of my daze, and followed him towards the sofa. I sat down, sliding all the way back until I was pressed against the far back of the sofa, and crossed my arms protectively over my stomach. He took a seat in one of the reading chairs a few feet away from me after setting my bag on the floor by my feet. He rested his ankle on the other knee casually as he sized me up professionally with his eyes. I felt the urge to fidget as a blush crept up my chest. I wasn't too sure about this now that I've seen him. How am I supposed to do this when he's unconsciously making me uncomfortable? It's not his fault really, it's mine. Why can't I get myself together? I need to stop this. This situation is extremely serious and it shouldn't matter what the guy looks like—even if he does seem like he's trying to literally melt me with his intense gaze. I needed to get control of myself… now.

"So, what brings you here?" He asked me. I met his eyes bravely and arched a brow indifferently.

"You know that already, don't you?" I told him. I probably should have toned down the defensiveness in my tone. I came to him, not the other way around. I shouldn't act so hostile, but it was the only thing I could do to bring my indifferent walls up. I'd never had this reaction to someone before. It definitely needed to stop. He looked down at the file resting in his lap with a grave face.

"Yes, I do."

"You have my records… including my hospital records?" I asked him to be sure. I assumed he'd have access to those records, but I wasn't sure. I was hoping so, that way I wouldn't have to explain it to him. That would have made this so much harder.

"Yes." He nodded his head solemnly. He looked back up at me, gingerly expectant. "Would you like to talk about the attack?" My breath stopped coming in and out. His smooth voice made it seem pleasant, but the words were just a horrid reminder of five months ago… back in Phoenix.

"Not yet." I told him calmly. Not yet… how about a warm up before you toss a land girl into the stormy ocean? Maybe a few swim lessons first. I'm not ready to tell this guy my deep dark secrets. We just met.

"Okay." He nodded understandingly before taking a deep breath and moving on in an easier tone. "How's life at home?" And here we go.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

I woke up excited for the day to come. It was Friday—meaning it was my day with Dr. Cullen. It had become a welcome ritual for me. Fridays I would sit through school incredibly anxious, checking the clock until the final bell rang, signaling my exit. I'd make it downtown just in time for my annual 4:30 appointment. It had been over a month since my first appointment, and the sessions between us progressed slowly but smoothly. We made the annual appointment for Fridays because it's his least busy day and the one day I wasn't loaded down with oodles of homework. And because I can't ditch every Friday, I'm always his last appointment of the day. For some reason I enjoyed knowing that I was the last one he saw before going home. It's weird, but I can't help how I feel. We still haven't talked about the attack. I've been not so subtly procrastinating over bringing it up, and I dodge him every time he tries to.

Renee returned home two weeks ago for some quality time, but she left to meet Phil in Chicago less than a week later. It's not that I minded really. I mean, I miss my mom, but lately it's just been too hard to be around her. I feel like every time I'm around her I'm lying. The only alternative to that though is telling her what happened, and that would be about the worst thing in the world I could do to her. Marcus has been spending more and more time over at my house after school. We study together. The only reason I let him stay so much is because I hate being in the house alone. I used to enjoy having the house to myself, but here in Jacksonville it just seems wrong, and leaves me feeling restless and upset. Marcus's presence is a step up from leaving the TV on at least.

I went downstairs after getting dressed for school, and stopped to listen to the messages. As always—there were exactly two messages; one from Renee and one from Rachel, the pretty assistant at Dr. Cullen's office. She calls every Friday morning to remind me of my appointment, and mom calls every morning to remind me to eat a good breakfast. Apparently, she noticed that I hardly ate the whole time she was home.

I grabbed an apple from the bowl on the kitchen table and rushed to my car, already late for school. The apple went forgotten in my messenger bag as I made it to school and burst into AP Bio ten minutes late. I shrunk back at the disparaging looks my teacher—Mr. Morgan—sent towards me as I took my seat at the back of the class. After the bell rang, the teacher stopped me with a tardy slip for detention. When I tried to argue that I couldn't stay late today, he reminded me that it was my third tardy that week and if I couldn't make detention I could always make suspension. I didn't reply to that, just rushed across the building towards my next class before I earned one more slip. During lunch, I slipped past the socializing teachers and camped out in my usual spot behind the red curtain in the auditorium. I had drama for last period, which made it easier to slip out early if necessary. Ms. Shots, the drama teacher, was a complete mess. She never knew what was going on and was easily distracted from anything whatsoever. She also didn't mind me making her room my cafeteria, but I hid nonetheless. I pulled out my apple and bottle of water and occupied my 45 minutes with _Elizabeth Bennett _and_ Mr. Darcy_.

After sixth period, I made sure to hang in the back of the auditorium while Ms. Shots focused on explaining emotional expression to the class. About 15 minutes before class would end I slipped out into the empty hall and made my escape. If I waited till the bell rang, Mr. Morgan would have surely found me and dragged me to detention. The guy was a stickler. And there was no way I was missing my appointment. As I pushed open the doors that led out to the parking lot I bumped into a hard chest.

Speak of the stickler.

After I bribed my detention guard to let me out 20 minutes early, I rushed across town and made it up to his office just as Rachel was packing up her things, getting ready to leave. She never stayed after five. Once the last patient was in the doctor's office, it was his responsibility to deal with them. She grinned at me, shaking her head at my tardiness as we passed each other in the waiting room on her way out. I sent her a questioning look and she nodded towards the back hallway, signaling he was currently patient-free. I entered the room just as he was pulling on his jacket. He turned towards me, already taking his jacket back off, and took a seat in his usual reading chair.

"Bella…" He acknowledged me in a monotonous voice. "You're late." I shrugged as I tucked my legs under me on the sofa and dropped my bag.

"Detention,"

"Really, what'd you do?" He questioned amusedly, arching a brow.

"Don't worry, I didn't burn down the gym or stab anyone. Any more than three tardy slips in a month and its detention. I live far away from the school and I like to sleep. So sue me." He chuckled wryly at that, shaking his head slightly as he glanced down. I love it when I make him laugh. It always makes me smile. I can't help it.

"So you're late to school a late?" He asked in that psychology voice he uses a lot. He thinks he's slick, buttering me up so that I let my guard down. I know his moves though. I just go along with them, doesn't mean I don't know what he's doing. Can't really blame him seeing as what he's doing is his job… the job I pay him for.

"Yes. And personally I don't see what's so bad about that. There are a lot of worse things I could be doing."

"Such as?" I smiled at his question and retorted in a teasingly serious tone.

"Like having sex with multiple partners behind the gym, smoking and/or shooting up in the bathroom, vandalizing the school football field, sleeping with my teacher to get my grade up… shall I go on?" Not that I would really ever do any of that, but I enjoy teasing him. He grinned crookedly at me and we smiled at each other.

"No, I don't think that's necessary."

"Were you a perfect high school student Doc?" I asked him, leaning my head on my hand resting against the arm of the sofa.

"Not exactly," He commented wryly.

"Not exactly…" I scoffed. "I bet you were a bad boy. You know, the whole shebang—motorcycle, swooning school girls, geeks to do your homework, wannabe bad boys thinking they're your gang, hot cheerleader deeply in love with the school's signature 'guy from the wrong side of the tracks.' Either that or you were the rich boy who always got his way with no sense of consequence until some tragedy occurred that you couldn't throw money at to disappear and learned to search for the deeper meaning of life." I rambled on quickly, getting lost in my snarky sarcasm.

"You've got the strangest imagination. You're enjoying yourself aren't you?" He asked me with a crooked grin. I nodded my head surely, smiling as my brow rose. "Are you done?" I waited a moment, staring at him in consideration before nodding my head reluctantly.

"You realize that I'm the one supposed to be psycho-analyzing here, right?" He asked me.

"Eh, semantics," I shrugged. After that, we got serious and down to business. He asked about my relationship with my father, which I told him was almost non-existent, not that I minded, and then we began discussing my life in Phoenix. I knew he was just trying to get closer to talking about what happened. I sighed reluctantly before throwing myself into commitment.

"After it happened, I didn't tell anyone. Not Renee because it would have completely destroyed her. She wouldn't have been able to handle knowing that; and not Phil because I really don't know him well. And there was no one else. My friends were not mature enough to be able to be supportive over something like that, and the only other person I would have gone to was definitely not an option."

"Go on." He urged me tentatively when I paused, staring past him out the window.

"Um, Renee noticed something was wrong, and I shrugged it off as a bad breakup. A few months later we moved and I left my problem behind. Or I tried to." I sighed in relief, shaking my head and turning to meet his eyes. He could tell I was done talking about it. That was enough for now. And apparently he agreed with me, because as he stared into my eyes with some unreadable expression, he moved on in a lighter tone of voice.

"You get into fights a lot?" My brow furrowed in confusion at his out-of-the-blue question. In response to my look he gestured towards the side of my jaw. My fingers reached up, trailing across my jaw line gingerly. I winced slightly as my fingertips glided over a small sensitive spot where my pale skin was darkened lightly by a fading bruise.

"I'm clumsy. I fall a lot—bump into things. It's dangerous being me." I told him laughingly. He didn't buy it.

"Yes, I know you're a klutz. But how did that happen? It's at a strange angle. You must have done something pretty unique to get that by falling." He's too observant. I usual like that about him.

"Yeah well, this wasn't so much an accident as it was a stupid move." He arched a brow questioningly at me, and I sighed in resignation.

"There's this neighbor of mine. He goes to my school. Anyway, he spends a lot of time at my house, because his parents fight a lot and my house is always pretty much empty. He has a temper, and when I absently made a stupid remark one night when I just wasn't up for his company, he lost his temper." The pen Dr. Cullen was gripping broke as he watched me, his jaw clenched and his muscles tense. I smiled genuinely at him.

"It was no big deal. He just backhanded me once. It's not like he pounded on me or anything. I kicked him out after that, but whatever—_men_." I said that last part while shaking my head disparagingly. I was trying to lighten the mood, but apparently it didn't work.

"Bella, he did not have a right to touch you." He told me forcefully. I understood what he was thinking, but he was wrong.

"I know that Doc. Don't get me wrong okay? I'm not a kicked puppy, or some screwed up victim that thinks I deserved what I got so I don't mind when someone else thinks they can treat me that way. I'm not an abused woman. I'm fine." I told him firmly. I wanted him to believe me. It was the truth. Marcus didn't have a right to hit me just because he got mad. And when I was attacked, I didn't deserve it. I'm not screwed up, at least not in that way. No, I'm not fine though.

"Why do you let him stay if he has a temper?" He asked, trying to contain the harshness in his voice and return to the calm exterior he normally possesses. I shrugged unsurely.

"I don't know. He's not so bad most of the time. I just… I don't like staying in that empty, silent house all the time by myself." He stayed silent for awhile after that, regarding me thoughtfully. I could see something in his expression that led me to believe what ever he was thinking of was conflicting him. Towards the end of the hour, I got up from my seat, slinging my bag over my shoulder.

"Well, I gotta go, and you should be getting home. I didn't mean to keep you after work late. I'll be on time next Friday." I told him quietly, making my way to the door.

"Bella, wait."

"Yeah Doc?" I asked, turning around to face him. He was standing behind his desk, writing something quickly on a small business card. He crossed the room towards me, and leaned down, placing the business card in my bag. I watched him silently.

"Don't let the wrong person into your life because of loneliness." He told me seriously in a low voice, pinning me with an intense look. His eyes heated my insides uncomfortably, and I had to get out of there—put some distance between us. He was standing to close, though he didn't seem to notice. I took a step back, opening the door.

"Thanks Doc. See you later." I told him over my shoulder as I quickly left the office, and made my way to the parking lot. I sat in my car with the engine turned off, staring at my hands clutching the steering wheel. I took the business card out of my bag and held it between two fingers as I examined it. It was his business card, with his work number on it. Then, on the back, was his home number written just below his message.

_Edward Cullen_

_Call me if you need me._

I cried. I don't know why—it was ridiculous. But I cried… and then my silent crying turned into heavy sobs that wracked my body as I shook, leaning my forehead against the steering wheel. _I was so fucked._ This is what happens when you go too long telling yourself it doesn't matter that no one cares about you, not really.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

I sat across from him, just the same as always. But something was different today, and I couldn't figure out what it was. He was more withdrawn, stiffer. When I'd first walked in, he was lounging on the leather sofa with his arm thrown over his eyes. He looked extremely stressed. There was music floating from the small high-tech stereo sitting on one of his bookshelves. It was soothing and beautiful, and very familiar. I smiled at the realization. I knew exactly what it was he was listening to. That had made me feel good—don't ask me why.

I crossed the room quietly, paying extra care not to trip over myself, and fingered the stereo. I turned the volume down a touch to reveal my presence. He looked over his arm, and smiled warmly when he saw me.

"Bad day?" I asked, arching a brow as my lips pursed and my head tilted slightly. He nodded grimly. "Wanna talk about it?" I asked him considerately—truly interested in what it was that was making him so upset. He laughed, grinning crookedly at me as I took a seat in his reading chair.

"That's my line." He told me.

"Don't worry… I won't tell anyone you're human." I teased him. "So, you like classical." I stated my observation quietly, glancing back at the stereo.

"One of the many musical genres I like… you?"

"My tastes vary widely. Clair de Lune is beautiful—though not my normal style." I told him. He leaned his head up, looking at me in intrigue. He was surprised I recognized the track playing. It wasn't something a normal 17 year old girl would recognize. I had hoped he'd realized by now that I was not a _typical_ anything.

"So you make exceptions for the exceptional." He stated his own observation about my tastes. I smiled docilely, nodding affirmatively. I crossed my legs and leaned back in his chair, resting my arms across my lap, and stared back at him with pleasant interest. I enjoyed this—simply sitting here, watching him watch me. A very strange sensation, but I really liked it. It made me feel comfortable, content. And the more I learned about this man, the more I saw how amazing he was. He was in no way any sort of _typical_ either. It made me want to know more about him, to understand him—because I really did not understand him. He was genteel and gentlemanly, intelligent and attentive, and warm and humorous. And I was sure he was much more than that too. I just hadn't seen the rest. And he must have seen something in my eyes, because he suddenly tensed, sitting up from his lying position and crossed the room, and turned the stereo off. He returned to his seat on the sofa, but he was stiff and tense, and his expression was tightly controlled. I didn't understand what had happened, but I let it go.

"Have you spoken to your mother recently?" He asked me in that same psychology voice. I sighed, returning to our business like atmosphere.

"I talked to her last night." I told him shortly.

"And…?" He urged me to continue.

"And, I told her that a few guys from school had invited me to a party this weekend. They cornered me yesterday and tried to make nice—in their annoying, wolfish way." His brow fell and creased. As he listened to my words, he watched me intensely, picking up on every gesture and expression in that extremely observant way of his. When his eyes lingered on my hands I realized I'd been pulling the sleeves of my shirt over them to hide them from view nervously. When I noticed him noticing that, I quickly shook it off, folding my hands in my lap in order to stop the uncomfortable tick. I looked away from his gaze suddenly, staring past him, seeing something else as I spoke. "When I told her I wasn't going, she started pressuring me, asking questions. It's getting harder and harder to talk to her. She's the only one that has an affect on me, and that makes me feel weak… unprotected. I hate having to lie to her. It makes this whole thing so much worse. She's the only one I have, and I keep distancing myself."

"Have you considered telling her the truth?" He asked hesitantly, tilting his head to the side just barely as he watched me with narrowed, attentive eyes. I noticed his lips—they were thinned and pursed slightly, thoughtfully. I quickly looked away before he noticed me staring at his mouth. Wow, that would be embarrassing. The thought made my voice—which had gone weak, as if it were about to break—lighten and strengthen a tad. I used thoughts like that to distance myself emotionally from my words. I couldn't have myself breaking down right here in his office. That wouldn't be good at all.

"You don't understand, Doc. You don't know Renee. It wouldn't help anything to tell her about what happened. It would just make everything ten times worse… for me and for her."

"How would it make it worse for you?"

"It would make it worse for her. She'd fall apart. And I'd have to worry about keeping her together. _That_ would make it worse for me."

"Bella, you're worrying about how your mother would take the news instead of thinking of how it may help you to be able to talk to her about it." He told me. I was officially tired of this subject.

"That's what I have you for." I told him simply, truthfully.

"Yet you still haven't spoken of the attack itself, just its affects. If you're here to have someone to express yourself to, to liberate yourself from this feeling of lonely constraint, then you need to actually free yourself, not avoid it." I looked away reluctantly, pursing my lips and setting my jaw as I tried to push back the feelings overwhelming me. I felt like I would shatter at any moment and fall apart, sobbing hysterically and screaming out the events of what led me here. Yeah, that's not going to happen. I've got to control myself.

"I'm thinking of getting a tattoo." I blurted out abruptly. He sighed, giving up for the moment. I could tell he was frustrated, but his patience seemed to override that.

"A tattoo… why?" I shrugged. It had just occurred to me while I was trying not to cry. A tattoo could be cool… right?

"I don't know—just something different, something to do."

"A choice…" He told me in a solemnly knowing voice. I didn't understand what he meant, but I knew he was thinking of some kind of Freudian thing that proved that my desire to get a tattoo some how led back to what happened, subconsciously or something. I never understand these psycho-ologist things, especially Freud. Every little thing with him always seemed to signify your repressed desire to sleep with your mother. The man was seriously sick.

"Maybe something mythical—small and in a discreet place of course—kind of dainty. Ink art could be interesting. I've never really thought about it before. "

"Of course," He agreed with me, a hint of patronizing in his tone.

"What do you think?" I asked, humoring him.

"I… think it could be liberating for you. If you're sure… you would really want to permanently mark yourself?" He asked me incredulously.

"Why not? Permanently marking myself—it seems… steady, like something stable. It would never change or go away." And yes I realize I just handed him a boat load of psychological ammunition.

"Actually…" He began but quickly trailed off unsurely. "Never mind," He finished.

"Yeah, I think I'll get a tattoo." I decided. Why the hell not? It's not like it matters.

"What will you get?" He asked, leaning forward on the sofa, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched me.

"What do you think I should get?" He shook his head with a small smile. I knew he wouldn't answer. Influence and all… is a bad thing. "Okay, let's see… maybe a small Egyptian eye… or possibly some sort of cat's eye. It would have to be something symbolic."

"Well you'll have to decide on that before you do it. Make sure its something you can stand to look at the rest of your life." He told me. I could tell from his tone that he didn't approve.

"Where will it go?" He questioned.

"Um, maybe the inside of my wrist…"

"Over those veins—no that's not safe." He said, shaking his head in denial.

"Okay, on my hip." I said, letting my hand slide down my body and rest over the pocket of my jeans. His eyes followed my movements; then considered it for a moment. I thought he looked uncomfortable. Then he cleared his throat fidgeted in his seat, and I _knew_ he was uncomfortable. I removed my hand from my hip, letting my fingertips trace over my pants lightly. I liked tracing patterns over myself—my skin, my clothes—it made me feel real.

"Or possibly on my lower back," I told him confidently, raising my chin. The tone in my voce suggested the end of the topic. He looked grateful when I moved on, though I didn't understand it. Maybe he was uncomfortable with the idea because it was typically considered not a proper thing to do, getting a tattoo, or something.

"So Doc, why psychology?" I asked him. He looked at me questioningly, as if he were considering whether he would answer or not.

"Uh, my father is a doctor. He always hoped that one of his children would follow in his footsteps and I had no interest in practicing mainstream medicine. So I comprised. I've always been very observant, and the study of mental health interested me—so here we are."

"You seem a little too young to have gone through four years of college for a bachelor's degree and then six more for a doctorate." I told him, fishing for his age. I was curious. It seemed unlikely that he was old enough to have been through all that.

"Uh… I started taking college courses in senior year along with my regular curriculum. I got my bachelor's when I was 20, went on as an undergrad after that. I completed my doctorate last year." Meaning he was what… 26, 27?

"So you're a newbie." I teased him. "And I was right, wasn't I… about the rich boy part?" He laughed self-deprecatingly, nodding his head affirmatively.

"You have siblings." I stated, remembering him refer to children instead of child. He nodded affirmatively but didn't elaborate.

"Our hours up." He told me, standing up from the sofa. I wondered what I'd said that made him so uncomfortable that he wanted to get me out of his office. He'd never reminded or mentioned our hourly time limitation on our sessions before. I was always the one to notice my time was up and make my exit. He'd seemed different all throughout the session today. Maybe it wasn't something I had done, but it definitely had something to do with me. I got up too, grabbing my bag and making to leave.

"Next Friday Bella," He reminded me as he returned to his desk—like I needed a reminder. These sessions were the only thing I ever looked forward to. On my way out, my foot caught on the corner of the waiting room counter, and I fell forward. I caught myself and righted quickly before I hit the ground, but my bag wasn't so lucky. It fell to the floor—all its contents spilling out onto the floor. I lowered myself to my hands and knees and started gathering everything back into my bag. A pale hand stretched out, picking up one of my books. I looked up from the floor to see Dr. Cullen bent in front of me, handing my book towards me. I looked back down after giving him a tight smile, and took the book from him. My fingers skimmed over his palm as I took the book back, and I flinched at the static electricity that surged through me at his touch. I gasped quietly, and closed my eyes for a moment—a crease in my brow as I concentrated on pulling myself together. I had no idea what just happened, but when I looked back at him I could tell that he'd felt the weird surge as well.

"Thanks." I said lamely, picking up the last of my books and stuffing it carelessly into my back. I stood up quickly, straightening my back, and keeping my head down as I used my hair as a protective shield, curtaining my face. I went to brush past him, but his hand pressed gently against my forearm, keeping me in place. I turned to look back at him timidly, and saw that he was holding out his other hand to me.

"When did you get this?" He asked me tentatively, staring down at me sensitively. I took the black taser out of his hand and returned it to the outside pocket of my messenger bag.

"Right after… He lived right down the street from me. It was the only thing I could do…" I trailed off timidly in a vulnerable voice. I hated it when my voice sounded like that. It made me weak, and it gave him power over me. It didn't bother me as much because it was _him_, Dr. Cullen. I would have kept myself more tightly under control if it had not been him I was with. I don't know when it happened precisely, but I had let my walls down for him, only him. He'd gained my trust, and I was comfortable with him—sometimes in a way I really shouldn't be.

"It's good. It was a good step to take." He told me quietly, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, disconcerted. I looked up timidly at him and realized he was once again too close. I could feel his breath tickling my face. I swallowed nervously, biting my bottom lip.

"Yeah… well, goodbye." I stammered, spinning on my heels quickly and leaving the office. I reached my car, and sat there for a long while in silence. I rethought over the past hour and analyzed everything that had happened, trying to discern his discomfort and strange behavior. Each time I come here it gets harder and harder to leave. Every hour of the week I wish it would all go by faster, and the only time I don't feel that way is the one hour a week I spend here. Those hours go by too fast. I don't understand it, but it hurts when I leave him. It's like that office is my own personal dream haven. The one place where the rest of the world and its pains don't exist. I knew this wasn't normal, or right, but I couldn't make myself want to do something about it. I needed this. This was the only thing that ever made me feel anything other than dead inside. I couldn't lose it, but I knew it couldn't last forever. The first of which would end it would be when I run out of money. Dr. Cullen's rates are extremely low for the typical standards—and now I know why, he doesn't need it—but he's not cheap. And that's just the most apparent thing that would end our time together and take away my life support.

I shook away my morose thoughts before they made the familiar pain in my chest reappear, and started the car. I stopped at the grocery store on my way home, picking up a few things of food. Renee was coming back in a few days or so and I knew it would worry her if there was not a good supply of food in stock at home. I reached home while later, and started unloading the bags from the trunk. I felt someone standing behind me, and nearly jumped out of my skin, dropping the brown paper bag and spinning around. My back collided with the sharp edge of the car painfully as I pulled away. My mind registered slowly who was standing behind me and their unthreatening posture. My erratic heartbeat slowly calmed down along with my heavy breathing.

"God damn it, Marcus you scared me!" I yelled at him. The 6'3, blonde, tanned teenager stood a foot away from me with his hands stuffed in his pockets and a lazy grin on his features. I watched warily as he bent down to retrieve the bag and the items that spilled out on the pavement of my driveway.

"Sorry, Bella. I didn't mean to scare you. I just saw you pull up and figured I'd come and say hi." He explained regretfully, standing back up and handing me the bag back. He leaned over me, and ignored my flinch, reaching into the trunk to pull out the three remaining bags.

"Hi," I said dryly, glaring at him as I rudely brushed past him towards the house. I heard him shut the trunk and follow after me. I fiddled with the keys for a moment, trying to unlock the front door with my shaking hand. I cursed myself for not being stronger, and allowing something as stupid as being startled to upset me this much. Marcus waited patiently behind me for a moment before leaning in front of me and taking the keys out of my hand. He unlocked the door and waited for me to go in. As I reached the kitchen and began putting the groceries away, he leaned against a counter behind me.

"I figured I needed to come apologize for the other day." He told me.

"Nah, ya think?" I spat angrily at him, not bothering to look at him while we spoke.

"I know I was a jerk Bella, I'm so sorry. I was just stressed because of my parents and Stephanie and I had just had a fight and all. It just wasn't a good day, that's all. I'm sorry I hit you." I listened rather reluctantly as I scurried around the kitchen with the groceries. Worst part was, I felt understanding of him. I understood those bad days, bad times in your life. I wouldn't put it past myself to get violent with someone on one of those really bad days. Why should I hold it against him? I shouldn't, and I won't… but that doesn't mean I feel comfortable with being in the house alone with him anymore. I sighed tiredly before turning to face him.

"Okay, it's fine. Is there something else you wanted?" I asked tiredly. Fatigue was suddenly extremely apparent to me. I don't know what happened. It was probably the combination of my empty stomach, low blood sugar, and that freaking heart attack I just had out in the driveway.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The sound of car brakes screeching woke me up with a start. I jumped nervously, looking around wildly until my eyes landed on the major road aligned with the corner parking lot. A silver Honda took a corner too fast—that was all. I forced myself to relax back into the driver's seat of my Nissan. Morning twilight was just beginning to disappear. I checked the clock on my dash and groaned. It was barely 6:30. I thought about starting the car and just driving away, but for the life of me, I couldn't think of where to go. And the truth was—I really didn't want to leave. I couldn't go back to the house, I just couldn't. I can't stand the empty quiet any longer. I just can't do it. I pulled my coat over me further as I leaned back in the seat, curling my legs up closer to my body as I fell back asleep.

I was awoken once again, this time by a light tapping on my car window. I moaned tiredly, groggily opening my eyes and lifting my head. I was curled up on my side in the seat, facing the passenger side of the car with my coat pulled over me. I looked over my shoulder, squinting against the suddenly overly bright sunshine. It hadn't been this light before. I looked out my window to see Dr. Cullen bent down looking in at me in concern. I rolled my window down and he rested his hands against the window sill as he watched me.

"Morning," I murmured softly in a tired voice, tucking my hair behind my ear as I sat up stiffly in my seat. My muscles were screaming at me, punishing me for sleeping in my car. He frowned at me—his green eyes taking on a strong hint of gold in the sunlight.

"Afternoon actually; Bella, what the hell are you doing out here? And how long have you been sleeping in your car?" He asked in a strong tone. My lips parted to speak, but I found that my throat was sore, and inhaled a deep breath of cool air. My throat and lungs thanked me.

"Did you miss school today? I thought I saw this car here when I arrived this morning?" He asked when I didn't answer his previous questions.

"You said it is afternoon?" He nodded. "Then I guess I did miss school. It's Monday right?" I asked him, unsure of the date. Time was pretty much a blur to me right now, like waking up from a dream. I was in a completely self-induced haze.

"Yeah, it's Monday. Bella, what is going on?" The worry in his voice drew my attention back to him, and I took my confused gaze away from the clock on the dash and moved it to him.

"Oh, um, I was just… parking." Yeah okay, that was stupid. If I didn't know it already, his skeptically arched brow would have told me so. "Okay," I sighed in resignation. "I was really just parking—sleeping."

"Why are you sleeping in your car? Why aren't you at home?" I didn't answer him. I didn't know what to say, so I just stared. I stared at him and he watched me stare at him. We stayed like that for a few moments before he sighed, shaking his head in defeat, and reached in, unlocking the car door before holding it open and gesturing for me to get out. I listened, dazedly climbing out of the car and following him into the building. We got onto the elevator and he pressed the button for the third floor.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him as the elevator rose.

"I work here, remember?"

"No, I meant—"

"It is 3:45 Bella. My last patient was at 2:00. I was going home."

"Then why are you going up?"

"Because Bella, I just found you sleeping in your car out in the parking lot, and you won't answer my questions and you made no move to leave. After I leave, what are you going to do, just sit there in your car? Or will you go home? Or maybe you'll just run off to some skuzzy tattoo parlor and get mixed up with drug addicted, diseased, violent rockers." I watched him warily as he finished his angry rant. I wondered what the hell was wrong with him. What was upsetting him so much? I'd never seen him this worked up before. I realized my mouth was hanging open slightly when he turned to me with over-emotional, frustrated eyes. He was upset, and confused—that much I could see. Something was bothering him, I just didn't know what. But there was no reason for him to get this worked up over a patient's life. There had to be something behind it. We were still in strained silence when the elevator dinged and the doors slide open. He stormed out of the elevator and down the hall. When I made no move to follow him, he turned on his heels and held his hand against the elevator door, preventing it from closing. He stared at me. I stared at him.

"I changed my mind. I don't want a tattoo." I told him in quiet voice. I didn't know what else to say. But apparently it wasn't so bad, because he broke into a reluctant, crooked smile at my words and his eyes lit up. He shook his head laughingly, and took me by the arm, leading me down the hallway. We entered his empty office after he unlocked it, and I automatically took a seat on the leather sofa. He began pacing restlessly around the room. After about five full minutes of silence and him pacing, he turned to me with a heavy sigh, resting his hand on the back of his usual seat.

"What happened?" I looked down, away from his gaze at the question. Suddenly I was feeling that fatigue all over again, and wishing I had eaten something yesterday, before I rashly jumped in my car and fell asleep in his parking lot. I huffed out a breath of air, running my fingers through my hair before resting my head in the hand while my elbow leaned against the arm of the sofa. My other hand played with a loose thread in my jacket. He waited patiently until I finally spoke up.

"Renee was supposed to be coming home Sunday—yesterday—so there were things that needed to be done around the house before she got home. I was… I… well, anyways, Saturday she called to tell me that Phil's been moved to California, and she was making the trip with him so she wouldn't be able to make it home this month. It was fine, only I was kind of disappointed, so when Mar—my neighbor stopped by that night, I didn't send him away immediately." I paused, looking away from him ashamed. I knew he was disappointed, and from the way his hand tightened its grip on his chair, he was mad too. I looked back up at him with a new sense of urgency, my eyes pleading with him to understand.

"I'm just so tired of that empty house. I hate being there. I hate this place. I just wish… I don't know what I wish. And that makes it even worse. I don't know what's wrong or what would make it better. I just know that I can't do this anymore. I hate that house." I paused before continuing in a quiet voice—almost a whisper. "I hate that empty house." My voice was low and tired and broken… I hated it. My eyes fell closed as I swallowed roughly, and my breaths came too shallow. My head pounded painfully and my stomach ached with nausea. I was tired of this, all of it. I needed to scream, to faint, to yell and break things. I needed this to stop, this feeling, this emptiness. I needed SOMETHING. And the only thing left to try was to just tell the truth. To tell it all, and maybe, just maybe, that was the problem and the solution. I clung to the thought that maybe, just maybe, it might help as I began in a resolute voice.

"That night, almost… eight months ago now—" Yes, the thought just occurred to me. It had been eight months ago. Two months we moved to Jacksonville, six months since I'd been living here, and almost four months since I met Dr. Cullen. He rounded the chair, sensing my impending confession, and took a seat in his usual chair. I avoided looking at him. I looked at everything in the room _but_ him.

"He was my friend—my only real friend. A few weeks before… he'd told me he loved me in more than a friendly way, and when I didn't reciprocate, he got upset to say the least. I was at party when this guy… I didn't even know his name, but I recognized him from school. We danced, and we kissed, and my friend saw us. He got angry. On my way home… on my way home, he confronted me. We fought, and when he got violent… and I tried to get away… he caught up to me. He wouldn't let me go. He pushed me down to the ground and pinned me there. I screamed… for help… but there was no one. I fought him off of me, and I got up to run. I barely made it ten feet before his arms wrapped around my waist. He hit me… and repeated when I still tried to fight… when I struggled. I was on the ground; I couldn't even get to my feet. He just kept kicking me over and over again until I couldn't breathe. Then he got on top of me, and ripped my clothes… my ribs were broken and my wrist was fractured. I couldn't breathe, or scream, or fight anymore. I could barely move. I couldn't fight him. He was insane with rage… and just kept yelling that I was a slut who'd give it up to anyone but him, so I deserved this, I wanted it. He forced himself on me while I pleaded with him to stop. He was my friend… and I didn't understand why he was doing this to me. And I couldn't make him stop." The tears were falling slowly but steadily, and my hands were shaking. I hid them in my shirt sleeves for protection. My eyes were still staring at nothing, seeing something else. I was shaking and weak and all I wanted was to go back to sleep for just a little while longer. I took deep, calming breaths as I tried to gather my strength. It seemed to have left me awhile ago. And now I knew I was wrong—it didn't help to talk about it. It didn't make me feel better at all. It made me feel worse. He was wrong. And now he just stared at me with some strange mixture of anger, understanding, empathy, and helplessness. Why he was feeling helpless I had no idea. I understood why I was feeling that way.

"Satisfied?" I asked him wryly, hoping I had past whatever test he had been pushing me to take ever since we'd started these meetings. I couldn't look at him. I kept my gaze down on a spot of the leather sofa beside me as I curled in on myself in a weak attempt at control. Tremors wracked my body softly and I felt even worse. The crying was making my headache worse and the fatigue was growing stronger. "I really don't feel good." I blurted quietly out of nowhere. I felt like I was barely alive. I really needed something… something I was forgetting.

"What is it?" He asked me in a distant voice, speaking for the first time since I'd begun my confessional recount. I shook my head weakly.

"I'm weak. This feels wrong." My voice faded in and out of my consciousness and that worried me. I tried to stand up from the sofa, using my hand to push off from the arm of it. I came to my feet and realized that I was too weak to stay that way. My knees gave out, and I fell. A pair of strong arms wrapped around me from behind quickly before I could reach the ground, and held me up against a hard chest.

"When's the last time you've eaten?" He asked me, turning me in his arms so that we were facing each other. He held me up gingerly as I rested my head against his chest tiredly and expelled an exhausted breath of air.

"Uh… I… maybe a few days… I don't remember." I whispered to him, trying to conserve all the energy I had left.

"Shock and famine don't mix well together Bella." He told me. The tone of his voice made me believe he was scolding me for something, but I didn't have the energy to finish the thought.

"I'm tired." I spoke my thought aloud absently.

"C'mon, let's get out of here—get you some food." He told me, half carrying me to the door. He held me with both hands, one arm wrapped around my waist, the other holding over my stomach as he guided me out of his office and down the hallway towards the elevator. I let him lead me blindly, not caring as I leaned my head against his chest and closed my eyes. My feet moved with him, but the rest of me just concentrated on the comfort his nearness exuded in me. It was a strange feeling, but it was wonderful. It was something I hadn't felt in a long time.


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The days passed by me as one long slow haze of monotonous. Most of the time, I was thankful for the numb dreariness that was my existence. There were only small periods of time each day that I reveled in the one thing that chased away the numbness but didn't bring back the pain. It started as Fridays, and the time during the rest of the week that I would look forward to Fridays. After my confession a few weeks ago—my supposed breakthrough—it had turned into something more than just Fridays. One particularly rough night in the house alone, I thought back to what Dr. Cullen had told me to do during those times I was tempted to allow Marcus back into my life. So I found the business card I kept safely locked in my secret emergency cash stash and after about eight misdials and hang ups I finally let the call go through. I hadn't been expecting him to answer, but he did. We talked, and we talked some more, and before I knew it we were falling asleep together through the phone line. The next night I'd finished my homework and forced a few bites of dinner down my throat, and I couldn't help but think back on our phone call. I just couldn't resist picking up the phone once more. It went on like that all week. One night, I asked what book was currently on his nightstand, and he told me it was an Oscar Wilde piece. I found myself once again excited at our shared interests. He read aloud from where he'd left off the night before until I fell asleep.

The next night, I read a chapter from _Wuthering Heights_, the book I was currently reading for the hundredth time. He—of course—couldn't hold back his commentary on the utter lack of redeeming qualities in either of the main characters. I didn't mind, I enjoyed hearing his opinions… and arguing with him. The next week, in therapy, we picked up where I'd left off on the night of my attack. I recounted to him how I walked home afterwards alone, and I went to the hospital as soon as Renee was asleep. I explained my wrist cast and bruises off to her by saying I took a fall down the flight of stairs at my friend's house. Our phone calls continued.

One night, we watched the Shakespearian remake of _Much ado about nothing_ together on cinemax—at my insistence—and in return, we watched _die hard_ the next night. We shared commentary on the movies all the way through via the phone line. Beginning with each morning, I spend the entire day waiting for after dinner, and I spend the entire night wishing our call had lasted longer. I knew it wasn't right—this dependency I was forming for him. I knew we were seriously crossing an important doctor/patient line somewhere, but I couldn't make myself care. I needed him. I wish I didn't. I had never wanted to form an attention like this, ever again. But I'm not sure whether the price I'm sure to pay sooner and later for this is worth the aliveness he brings. I couldn't decide whether or not I'd be better off just accepting my numb monotonous existence rather than try to deal with whatever horrible hole my chest would be torn into when this thing—whatever it is—ends badly, like it is sure to.

My morose thoughts led me back into a frenzied depression for the night. It had been two days since I'd tried to call him in our nightly ritual, and he hadn't answered. I hadn't tried again after that. I was just waiting for Friday to come along. But tonight was especially hard. The house seemed colder, even more terrifyingly quiet, and my numbness was suddenly pushing me over the proverbial edge of turbulent unease.

I paced the house, up and down the stairs, in and out of rooms, bouncing a tennis ball from hand to hand as my jitters brought me to the brink of tears. I hated being left alone with my thoughts—it never led to happy things. I suddenly remembered the gang of wannabe James Dean's talking about the party going on downtown in the Pine Hills apartment complex. I had overheard them discussing their excitement over it during third period. Two seconds later I was pulling my mid-thigh dark jacket on over my rocker tee and jeans and grabbing my keys before heading out the door. I drove across town, pulling into the complex's packed parking lot. I watched the swarms of inebriated youth mill around as several high volume stereo speakers blared rock music throughout the complex. I pulled my hair out of its messy bun, shaking it out casually as I stepped out of the car, locking it behind me. After a few hours and more than a few awkward conversations/drunk inept flirting, I finally got away politely from the three drunken guys laughing over past exploits that I was supposed to swoon over, and took a seat on the step of a cement staircase. Someone handed me a drink, and without thinking, I slugged it back. That was what started it… and by the time it stopped, I was having trouble forming coherent thoughts, never mind sentences.

When I finally made the decision to go home, I stumbled drunkenly towards my car. After about twenty minutes of fiddling with my keys and the lock on the door, I finally realized that it would not be a good idea for me to attempt driving at this point. I tripped over something invisible, landed on my ass, and hit the back of my head on the car. I groaned in pain. The cement of the parking lot severely stung me and the hard metal of the car worsened my already murky mind. I found my cell phone in my jacket pocket, and stared at it blankly for another twenty minutes while I tried to think of who to call. No one I could normally call was currently in the state. I scrolled through my contacts hopelessly until the highlighter scrolled past his name, and my face lit up. Of course I could call him. I wanted to talk to him anyways. If I hadn't been quite so out of it, it may have occurred to me that drunk dialing my psychologist/only friend/man I'm pretty sure I'm in love with would be a very bad idea. But I was, and it didn't, so I did. It took two tries, but he finally picked up the phone.

His deep, velvet voice sounded confused and groggy, and I knew he'd been sleeping. Great, I'd woken him up. Oh god, what if he's not alone? And I'm just drunk dialing and about to ask for a ride… great. This night really hadn't turned out like I expected. I realized he was talking again when his orgasmic voice brought me out of my drunken, embarrassed thoughts. It took me a few more minutes to respond as I mulled over how his voice reminded me of warm, soft chocolate cake. Oh man, chocolate cake would be fantastic right now. I couldn't decide which I'd rather have. Definitely both… preferably all in the same package.

"Bella…? What's wrong? Are you alright? Are you hurt? Where are you?" Well he gets right to the point, doesn't he? His string of panicked questions left me tongue tied. His words came out too fast and too close together for my befuddled brain to process.

"Uh, hey Doc… I don't feel so good. I can't get home… can you get me home?" My voice sounded strange to me, like it wasn't really my voice. And my words came out slow and raggedly. I heard him heave a heavy sigh, and I imagined him running a hand through his wonderful hair.

"Where are you?" He asked. A few minutes and a lot of hemming and huh-ing later I managed to recall the name of the complex parking lot I was in. The music blared in the background, and he assured me he'd have no trouble finding me because of it and that he'd be there soon. He ordered me not to move an inch until he got there, and then we said goodbye. I was immensely proud of myself. I didn't make any embarrassing, inappropriate comments or confess my undying love for him or anything like that. Yeah, I was proud. It all went kinda hazy after that and it also went very dark for a little while. I was pretty sure I'd passed out. I faintly recalled a pair of strong arms wrapping around me, and I felt myself being lifted off the hard ground. I heard that voice ask me something, but I was too busy thinking about that voice and chocolate cake together to try to register what it'd said. He repeated himself a few times as he walked us towards his black sedan—the darkness receding slightly. My head lifted off his shoulder for a moment and I stared at him baffled. I watched his lips move, and vaguely thought he might be asking me where I live. I think I mumbled something like—so beautiful—under my breath before the darkness came back and my head hit his warm shoulder solidly. That was it for me.

Now here I am, waking up with the taste of bile in my mouth and a raging headache, and the worst part is the gaping black hole of memory pertaining to all of last night. That—and my inability to figure out where the hell I was. I really didn't like that.

I sat up stiffly, cringing as my muscles ached and my neck popped. I'd been sleeping on it at a very strange angle, considering when I woke up my head was hanging off the edge of the bed as I was plastered flat on my stomach. My eyes burned and I was thankful that the curtains were kept closed. Sunlight was the last thing my head needed right now. I looked around confusedly, frowning at my surroundings. I was still in my same clothes from yesterday, but my jacket was missing. I was lying in a queen sized bed with a mattress like a dream and a thick, warm navy blue comforter thrown over me. The room was dark, but I could make out a tall black dresser and a few doors here and there. The walls were a deep, blood red, and the floor was dark wood. There was a small sliver of warm light shining through a door left slightly ajar, and I could tell it was the bathroom. I fell back in the bed against the amazingly soft feather pillow and sighed exaggeratedly, creasing my brow as I tried to work out my thoughts.

I remember driving myself crazy last night at home alone. Then I remember something about a party, loud music, and chocolate cake… where the hell was I? The hand resting heavily limply over my face swung to the side, and hit the edge of something sharp. The nightstand by the bed caught my eye. There was an antique desk lamp, a digital clock that told me it was still just barely morning, and a picture in an expensive looking frame. It displayed a group of people, all smiling laughingly, and pressed together tightly in familiarity. There was a small, petite looking brunette with a pixie cut and a mischievous smile who was hugging a gracefully middle-aged woman with caramel colored wavy hair. On the other side of them was a handsome blonde man who looked to be slightly older than the rest, who was staring at the caramel haired woman lovingly. And beside him stood two guys, one bulky wrestler looking type, and the other a reserved looking blonde man with a small, passive smile. I skipped past another blonde—this one a woman who looked to be more beautiful and unreal than any supermodel I'd ever seen—and went straight to the bronzed haired man laughing joyously at the pixie type girl.

"Oh my god!" I shout-whispered in horror, sitting upright in bed as I stared incredulously with wide eyes at the picture. "Oh no…" I was almost certain of where I'd wound up last night. I must have drunk dialed Dr. Cullen. "Oh no, no, no." Great… just perfect. I just pray I didn't throw myself at him, or puke on his shoes or anything. "Oh god." I groaned painfully, hiding my outrageously blushing face in his warm, vanilla scented pillow. Oh wow, this is a nice bed. And man it smells good. This is probably what he smells like. I could imagine him smelling like this, deep, warmly sweet. Oh god, now I'm obsessing. "Get a grip, Bella." I berated myself. I reluctantly threw the covers off of me, and climbed off the bed. My foot bumped into a bucket lying beside the bed on the floor, and I thanked the heavens that it was still empty. At least I hadn't thrown up in his bed. Oh god. I cringed horribly, crossing the room towards the bathroom. I threw some cold water on my overheated face, and washed my mouth out, trying to get rid of the tangy taste. My hair was a mess, and after a few minutes of fussing with it I gave up. It was hopeless. I left the bathroom, standing at the threshold of what I was sure was the bedroom door, and took a deep breath, bracing myself. I walked out of the bed room and shivered slightly; the wood floor was shockingly cold against my bare feet. I came into a large loft furnished beautifully—like something out of a magazine. The messiness of it only took away from the perfectness a tiny bit. It wasn't as bad as a guy's dorm room I imagine would be, but it definitely looked like it had missed out on several past Saturday cleanings. It was large—the walls were ivory with candle wracks and paintings hung as accents here and there, and it had a vaulted ceiling. Yep, I was definitely right about the rich boy thing.

The area closest to me was the living room. There was a black, long sectional sofa positioned about ten feet from a large entertainment center that framed an array of electronics. A large, flat screen TV, and on the other side were two DVD racks. On the other side of those were two overly large dark bookshelves similar to the ones in his office. They were completely packed full of books. But unlike the first editions of textbooks in his office, these bookshelves held hundreds of a vast assortment of books—novels mostly. On several racks hung on the wall above the TV were thousands of CDs. A floor lamp with a bowled light was stuck in the corner. I walked through the living room quietly, astounded as my eyes roamed over everything.

"Wow." I breathed quietly, tearing my eyes away from the living room as I crossed the loft towards the kitchenette area where he was working with his back to me. There was a long line of counters facing opposite the bar that had four wooden stools positioned before it. Near the kitchenette was the breakfast nook. A cozy round table was stuck in the corner by a large window. There were two chairs positioned around it. I noticed a small wrought iron spiral staircase that led up to an open room on the second floor as I passed. I made my way to the bar, sliding hesitantly into the stool that faced him. He was leaning up against the bar with his back to me—a mug of coffee in his hand. He turned around as soon as I sat down, and smiled warmly at me.

"Morning…" He said, and the smile was gone, replaced by a solemn expression. His lips set in a thin line like he was thinking about something.

"Morning." I croaked, narrowing my eyes against the soft light that warmed the whole loft. He turned around for a moment, picking up a glass of… something, and setting it down in front of me with a bottle of aspirin. "What the hell is that?" I asked incredulously, resting my chin on the countertop as I stared at the glass filled with some kind of murky green liquid. My arms rested limply on the counter, framing my head.

"Drink it—it's your hangover cure." I grimaced at him.

"I'd rather just stick with the aspirin." I swallowed two down with the glass of water he set beside me, and grimaced again as he pushed the glass of green muck closer to me and eyed me sternly. I rolled me eyes in defeat, grabbing the glass and taking a sip before shoving it back to him and coughing disgustedly. He shoved it right back. After a few moments of staring I finally gave in, and held my nose shut as I gulped down as much as I could force down my throat.

"That's gonna magically cure me?" I asked him. He turned away from me, laughing quietly for a moment.

"Well, it will help with the headache."

"So would the aspirin."

"Yes, but this way, you'll be even more reluctant to pull a stunt like that again." He said, taking a plate out of the oven that he was obviously keeping in there to keep warm, and placed it in front of me.

"Oh, so it wasn't a cure, it was my punishment." I commented grumpily, leaning my elbows on the table and resting my head in my hands. He pushed the plate of delicious looking waffles and bacon under my head.

"Eat." He ordered me, pulling my head out of my hands and placing a fork in my hand. Funny how he knows which hand to put it in. The man is far too observant.

"You cook?" I asked, arching a brow skeptically in surprise as I took a small bite of the waffle and nearly moaned in pleasure. It was wonderful, warm and crunchy/soft and melting with butter. It was ridiculously good, and made me want to eat more often. I looked back up at him with an expression of disbelieve. "You cook." I repeated myself, this time making it a pleasantly surprised statement rather than a question. Obviously he cooked. Unless he had a live-in girlfriend that popped in to make breakfast and went off to work.

I nearly gagged on my wonderful breakfast. I don't know why that thought shakes me so much. It shouldn't—I really shouldn't care whether my psychologist has a girlfriend. How could he not? Look at him. Speak to him. Listen to him. How could he not have someone who loves him more than the world? He couldn't—it's just not possible.

"Waffles… it's really the only thing I can cook. And pasta, but that's all." He told me, and my thoughts softened. I smiled up at him as he watched me eat.

"Well, you may not do it much but you do it well." I told him, complimenting his breakfast. He made me breakfast. I smiled uncontrollably—I don't know why. I couldn't help it. After I finished breakfast, he took the plate from me and rinsed it in the sink before turning back to me. I watched him almost as carefully as he watched me.

"Um, can I ask you something?" I paused, and continued once he nodded affirmatively. "What happened last night?" I asked, containing my cringe. I was just way too ashamed to have to ask that question. I can't believe I did something so stupid, so degrading.

"You'll have to tell me. I get a call at 3 in the morning from a drunk Bella asking me to pick her up. I get there to find you passed out on the pavement against your car. I don't know where you live, so I had to take you here. That's all I know of the night, besides that you were having some interesting dreams." He commented with a small smile on his lips. My eyes widened in horror. Oh god, I talked in my sleep. Pray I wasn't dreaming of him, or something inappropriate.

"I talk in my sleep, yes I know… um, I didn't like… um…" I couldn't even say it.

"You were just mumbling things like—_'so good _and_ hot chocolate cake'_. I guess you were starving yourself again huh? I thought we'd talked about this?" He scolded me. I shrunk back in my stool.

"I don't starve myself, I just forget to eat. But I ate yesterday, I swear." I defended myself. Chocolate cake? What the hell? It has been awhile since I've had a good piece of warm chocolate cake, which sounds really good, but why the hell would I dream of something like that? Well, at least I wasn't dreaming about him, thank god. We sat there talking for awhile before he offered—more like insisted—to drive me to get my car, which had apparently been left at an apartment complex. He told me my jacket was by the door, and I went to go get it while he got his keys and wallet. I found my jacket on a coat rack, and checked the pockets to make sure my keys, wallet, and cell phone were all there. They were. I came back into the living room, setting my jacket on the back of the sofa as I glanced over his music collection while he disappeared into his bedroom for a moment. I noticed a pillow and blanket crumpled up on one side of the couch, and realized that I had spent the night in his bed, forcing him to sleep on the sofa. He came out and stood beside me, watching me as my eyes roamed over his collection—a small smile playing on his lips at my interest. I felt his hand on my arm, drawing my attention. When I turned to look at him, we were too close, causing me to turn my head away again quickly before my face flushed.

"What happened last night, Bella? Why would you go do something like that? I thought we were making progress." That's right—progress. I'm his project, his patient, his job. Thinking like that stung, I don't know why, but it did. It made me defensive.

"Nothing happened, alright. I needed a little fun—it just got out of hand. And I don't know whether _we're_ making progress. You're the Doc, Doc." I bit out bitterly. He looked taken aback. I'd never spoken that way to him before, and I regretted it immediately. It was uncalled for. I looked down in shame and tried to turn away, but his hand on my arm turned me back towards him.

"Bella…" I waited, watching him softly as he struggled with something. I sighed, shaking my head, and avoided his eyes.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I messed up, and I'm sorry. We are making progress. Its just…"

"What…?"

"It's just not healthy progress." I admitted, finally meeting his eyes bravely with a grave, resigned expression.

"What do you mean?" He asked, searching my eyes for something I didn't want him to find.

"I mean that the only reason I feel progress is you. I only feel anything different when I'm with you, and that's just not good at all. I knew I shouldn't have let you in. I should have kept my distance and kept my walls up, but I didn't, and now I'm screwed."

"Don't say that Bella. Thing's will get better, easier. You just have to have patience."

"You don't understand." I denied, shaking my head. I looked back at him with a softer expression, holding his gaze. "I'm screwed. I messed up, and I let you in, and now I need you. And every time I let myself give in to that, to let you help me, it just makes the outcome even worse. Every second I let you closer instead of protecting myself, and when it's over with, I won't be able to recover. I'm screwed." I admitted in a soft, resigned voice. He just stared at me. He didn't say anything, just stared. I wished I could hear his thoughts so badly. Before this turned into something incredibly embarrassing and painful, I turned, reaching around him to grab my jacket off the couch, and walked slowly towards the door, shrugging my coat on. I waited for him at the doorstep, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed over my chest protectively. After another moment of him standing there beside the sofa, staring thoughtfully off into space, he snapped out of it, and followed me. He led me out the door, letting his hand hover over the small of my back as he walked me to his car with a simple—"Let's get you home."


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

A cold breeze blew through the darkened stairwell, and I wrapped my arms around myself, leaning against the wall opposite the railing a few steps up. The stairwell was a closed in corridor, and there was only one door on the floor, the corner loft in apartment 1B. I had been sitting here for about an hour, and my eyes were getting heavy as I shivered, rubbing my hands along the goose bumps on my arms. I contemplated leaving at least three times. I shouldn't be here, and I was pretty sure it was a waste of time, but as much as I tried to talk myself into it, I just couldn't force myself to move. It seems like I've been finding myself in this type of situation frequently in the last few months—pretty much since I moved here. It's Tuesday night, spring break has arrived, and I'm officially going insane. I've practically been jumping off the walls trying to control myself. I force myself to avoid Marcus, and refuse any party invitations that come my way. I cover my ears. I've tried movie marathons, book marathons, sleeping marathons, but nothing lasts long enough—and I'm not even half way through. What was hardest though, was resisting the urge to see Dr. Cullen. I had seen him Friday, and that should have gotten me through the week, but it didn't. And now, sitting here alone in this strange stairwell, I have plenty enough time to think back over earlier on tonight, and completely wallow in my own stupidity. To prevent the stream of bad memories anxious to race through my consciousness, I focused my mind on breathing deeply, and closed my eyes as I rested my head against the wall again.

I'm not sure how much time passed since I closed my eyes, but it seemed like it'd been awhile. I heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and lifted my head as I reopened my eyes, preparing to move out of someone's way. I stayed still as I saw him reach the landing and stop at his door, fiddling with his keys in the lock. I took a moment to enjoy the sight of him and the warmth that spread through me before my lips parted in preparation. His russet hair was damp and mussed, and he was slightly out of breath. His dark coat was hanging open over a plain grey t-shirt and dark-washed jeans. I planned to call out to him, but froze when I realized I had no idea what to say. The door unlocked and swung open, and just as he was about to go inside—I fidgeted uncomfortably, and inadvertently drew his attention. He turned towards me, narrowing his eyes briefly like he didn't believe what he was seeing.

"Bella? What are you doing here?" He asked, walking towards me. I held myself tighter, and remained silent. What was I doing here? "Did you come in through the rain?" He asked. Rain… it was raining? I shook my head in response, and my hair bounced with the movement, swaying back and forth. He was standing by my feet at the bottom step, and suddenly he rested his hand on the railing, and bent over me. His eyes were focused on somewhere below my eyes when the back of his hand gently brushed my hair over my shoulder. I tensed at his touch, my breath stuttering uncomfortably as I wondered whether he could hear the erratic pace of my heart.

"What happened?" He demanded in a tone I thought was a little too mad to come out of nowhere. My hand followed the trail his fingers left tentatively on my skin. I winced. My neck was sore.

"I just didn't feel like being alone. I'm sorry; I know you must have plans. I just…" My small voice trailed off hesitantly. His gaze was hard and unforgiving, and it made me shrink back regretfully. I knew this was a bad idea. "I'm sorry to bother you… I'll go." I said, quickly getting up, forcing him to step back from where he was still leaning over me quickly so that we didn't collide. I made my way around him and towards the bottom staircase. I felt a hand close over my wrist and swing me around not as gently as I would have expected from him.

"Get inside." He ordered, not meeting my eyes.

"I…"

"Now," He barked roughly in a voice that had me hurrying past him and into the loft. I stopped once I was through the door, and held it open a few inches. I stepped back from the door, staying at an angle where I could barely see out into the corridor. I watched in confusion as he rested his palms against the wall of the hallway and held his head down. I turned away, walking further into the loft while holding myself timidly. I obviously caught him at a bad time. I milled around the area near the kitchenette, shivering as I wished I had remembered my coat. I had been in such a rush, I had completely forgotten it. All I had on was an old faded short sleeve shirt and jeans. It wasn't enough to keep me warm on a cold rainy night. There was a loud _thump_ from outside the loft that had me jumping, startled as I spun around to face the door. I was just about to race to the door and check on him when the door swung open and he stormed in. I flinched when the door slammed behind him angrily. He didn't stop, just stormed across the room until he was right in my face. His gaze was furious and his breath was sweet as it caressed my face. I fought to keep myself in control and not let his nearness affect me. It didn't work very well.

"What—happened?" He asked again, enunciating each word with punctuation.

"Nothing, I told you… I just didn't want to be alone." I told him sincerely. I couldn't understand why he was acting this way.

"I thought we'd gotten past this." He told me, grabbing my arm and dragging me across the loft towards his bedroom. A wave of abrupt fright and panic coursed through me even though I knew he'd never hurt me. I couldn't help it, it was instinct.

"Past what?" I yelled, affected by his mood. He dragged me through the bedroom and straight to the bathroom.

"Lying," He stated simply, pulling me in front of him until he could grip my shoulders from behind and determinately guide me towards the vanity. He placed me in front of the mirror, and brushed my hair aside, forcibly gentle.

"What is that?" He demanded to know. I took my reflection in slowly, noting how exhausted I looked and the mess my hair was. I followed his reflection's eyes and found them focused on my neck, where a dark, nasty looking bruise spread across the side of my throat down towards my collarbone and disappeared under my top.

"Oh…" I breathed out in apprehension. So that's what he's been going on about. Damn it. It looked horrible. I was sure it had to look worse than it felt. I didn't feel _that_ bad. I didn't think that it was bad enough to leave such a nasty bruise.

"Yeah, oh," He scoffed angrily, still waiting for my explanation. I turned away from the mirror, brushing my hair over my shoulder to cover it as I turned to him. I realized he was standing just a few centimeters away from me, and turning towards him just brought me closer, but I couldn't back up any further. The lowest part of my back was already against the edge of the marble vanity.

"Um, I got in a fight. It's alright, I'm fine. It looks worse than it actually is. I didn't even know it was there. Anyway, um, can I… can I stay with you?" I asked timidly. I was afraid of his answer. I didn't want to leave. He seemed to soften slightly at my question, watching me with still heated eyes, but they were gentler than before. I looked away from his gaze as I blushed, swallowing nervously. I looked down, and caught a glimpse of his hand. His knuckles were already beginning to bruise and there were a few bleeding cuts along it.

"So that's what that noise was." I said to myself, brushing past him carefully until I was no longer pinned in between his body and the vanity. I led him silently out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. He watched me closely as I held his hand under the faucet of cold water, grimacing at his low hiss at the initial contact. I kept my eyes glued to his hand as he kept his gaze on my face. I led him to the dining table and sat him down, and then ran quickly back to the bathroom and started rummaging through the cabinet until I found what I needed. I returned to him, taking the seat opposite him. Our eyes returned to their respective targets as I worked, trying to not fidget under his scrutiny and distract myself with bandaging him. I rubbed peroxide over the cuts, and dried the wound before spreading antiseptic and taping the gauze over it at a comfortable angle so he could still bend his hand.

"You can stay here tonight." He told me quietly, still not taking his eyes off my face. I licked my lips and nodded without taking my eyes off my work. His anger seemed to have mostly subsided.

"So Doc…" I started conversationally.

"Don't call me that." He told me softly. His voice sounded confused. I looked up at him, meeting his gaze for the first time in ten minutes.

"What should I call you—Edward, Dr. Cullen, Mr. Cullen, Cullen?" I asked him, rattling off the choices quickly in a smooth voice. He shook his head.

"I… Edward?" He told me, making it sound like a question. He was unsure.

"Alright Edward," I said contently. He frowned at that, glancing away thoughtfully.

"No, you shouldn't call me that." I looked at him for a moment, sighing tiredly.

"I'll call you whatever you like." I said under my breath in a sad voice. He pretended not to hear me, though his body tensed at the words. That was alright, he wasn't supposed to hear me anyway. I shivered again which drew his attention.

"You didn't bring anything with you." He stated unhappily. I shook my head affirmatively.

"Have you eaten?" He asked me. I paused a moment before nodding yes. "When?" He asked.

"A few hours ago," I told him truthfully. "I did the whole dollar menu thing while I was out." He nodded his head, satisfied with my answer. He retrieved an old sweater from his closet and handed it to me. I slid the dark blue designer sweater over my head and scrunched up the overly long sleeves. It was big on me, and fell below my waist line and was loose and warm. It was so soft I reveled in the feeling of it enveloping me, and it smelled like vanilla—the same scent on his pillow. I curled up on the couch and he sat beside me as he read. I was content to just sit there with him in silence. I closed me eyes and rested, enjoying the peace. When it got to be very late, he brought out a comforter and pillow for the couch and tried to take me to the bedroom. I wouldn't have it. There was no way I was stealing his bed again. He was doing enough for me. So after an argument, he caved to my stubbornness and went to bed. I took off my jeans and folded them up on a chair in the corner, leaving me in my black underwear and his sweater over my t-shirt. I slid my lace bra off without taking off the tops, and placed it with my jeans before snuggling into his incredibly soft sofa with the comforter he'd given me. I said a quick prayer that I'd wake up before him in the morning, or if I didn't, that I did _not_ dream about him. This damn talking in my sleep thing is terribly inconvenient. I skimmed my fingers over the bruise thoughtfully, berating myself for getting into these bad situations. Why do mean, violent men always want to be my friend? My bitterness became apparent as I thought of the only good man I'd ever met. The only man I'd ever felt anything for was the one man I couldn't have. Life just sucks.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

I woke up to warm sunlight on my face and a soft _trickling_ sound coming from the kitchen. A small, content smile stretched my lips as I stretched lazily. It was nice. I felt good, for a change. I sat up on the sofa, letting my eyes adjust to the light as I yawned. I saw Edward sitting at the table in the breakfast nook, staring at me thoughtfully, as if he were daydreaming or so deep in thought he wasn't seeing what was really there. I heard the coffee pot click, signaling the coffee was finished brewing, and watched as he gave me a warm smile and got up to pour himself a mug of coffee. I untangled my legs from the comforter and padded over towards the dining table. The boxers I was wearing were rolled over some so they wouldn't fall off and would cover at least part of my upper thighs. Edward had given them to me yesterday morning when he'd woken to find my comforter on the floor and me sleeping on his couch in my underwear. Yeah, that had been embarrassing. I couldn't remember who was more flushed and nervous in the awkward moment, him or me. One night had turned into two, and by late last night, it had turned into indefinitely. I never said anything about my staying here. He never asked when I was leaving or told me to stay longer—he just kind of ignored it and let things play out.

I sat down at the table and pulled one of my legs up against my chest and hugged it, resting my chin on my knee. He returned from the kitchen and set a large maroon mug in front of me without a word. We sat there in silence for a long while, and I enjoyed the peace. When I drained my coffee mug I headed to the kitchen and began rummaging through his fridge, looking for something edible. I pulled out the half-used carton of eggs, an almost empty gallon of milk, and an unused loaf of bread, and set about making French toast. He sat at the table with his second cup of coffee, looking over a case file from work. The scene was utterly picturesque—so perfectly unimaginably normal it was downright creepy. And yet I was smiling involuntarily, and completely enjoying myself. I knew I was pathetic, sitting here playing house in my fantasy world when reality was just waiting to come back and bite me in the ass. I should be preparing myself, not getting lost in the calm.

"Where do you keep your spices?" I asked him, my soft voice breaking the blanket of serene silence that had been covering us. He looked up from his file, looking towards me with a blankly expectant expression. His brow arched quizzically and I repeated myself while stirring the egg yolks and milk with a whisk I'd found after five minutes of searching.

"Your spices… you know, cinnamon, vanilla—for the…" I trailed off, gesturing towards the mixing bowl without halting my wrist's circular motions. Apprehension dawned on him suddenly.

"Oh, yeah, um, third cabinet to the right," He told me, and then lowered his gaze immediately. I crossed to the correct cabinet and pulled down a basket of spices. Neither of the ingredients I was looking for where in there. In fact, every spice in the basket was unopened, and his variety was seriously lacking. I set the basket on the counter while I reached up on my tiptoes and my hand fumbled blindly with the various items that were shoved further back in the high cabinet. I felt a light touch to the small of my back as he appeared beside me, steadying me before I took a tumble. He reached past me and moved a few bottles around on the shelf before pulling back and handing me the two items I needed. A blush crept up my neck at his touch and lingering gaze. _Get control of yourself, Bella. _Geez, I'm acting like some swooning school girl. The kind of girls I make fun of. Get a grip.

After breakfast, I excused myself to use his bathroom—brushing my teeth with one of the still packaged toothbrushes he keeps under his sink. I stripped down, sliding off his boxers and leaving them folded on the vanity countertop with his sweater, leaving me in just my bra and boy short underwear. I pulled my hair down from its messy bun, dragging his brush through it tentatively as I walked towards the shower. I was just about to turn on the faucet when I heard him call out to me through the door and the knob twisted. I spun around as he came through the door with a towel and wash cloth in his hand. I stared wide eyed and blushing furiously as he walked over to the vanity, about to set the cloths down when he finally saw me—and realized I was basically naked.

Edward's lips parted and his eyes widened as he took me in. For a moment, his gaze was glued to my form, eyes roaming over me heatedly as he licked his lips and swallowed like his throat was dry. When his brain finally caught up to the situation, his gaze jumped away from me, and his head tilted back towards the ceiling as far as it would go.

"Oh! Oh god, Bella, I didn't think… I… I knew… there were no clean towels in the rack and I just thought… I mean I knew you'd… and I didn't realize…" I think he would have kept on going for quite awhile longer trying to make sure I knew he wasn't a pervert trying to take advantage of me, but I just had to put a stop to it. I smiled, watching him squirm, temporarily forgetting my own terrible embarrassment. I rushed towards the vanity, taking me closer to him, and took the towel from his hands, wrapping it around myself.

"It's alright." I told him timidly, avoiding looking at his face as I blushed furiously and bit my lip. We stood like that for a few moments before my embarrassment couldn't handle the awkward moment any longer. "So, um, is that all?" I asked him. Apprehension crossed his features as he realized he was still frozen, just standing there. He quickly backpedalled towards the door.

"Uh, yeah… um, enjoy your shower." He stumbled over his normally graceful words as he searched blindly for the door knob behind him while staring at me. I crossed my arm over my midsection shyly as he backed through the door way and quickly slammed the door in his own face. I let out a small giggle, glad I wasn't the only flustered one in that moment. I shook it off quickly and jumped into the shower. While I let my muscles relax completely under the stream of scalding water, my mind replayed the image over and over again on repeat—the look on his face when he first saw me. The look in his eyes was lust. I liked that… yeah, I definitely liked that. We weren't on completely uneven ground. I'm not the only one of us affected by the other. That was a small comfort in the vast depressiveness that is the reality of our situation. I could never have him. And even if outside forces didn't prevent us from being together, he would never want me, not really. I was damaged goods, completely screwed up, and nowhere near as good and beautiful as he deserves. Why was I even entertaining thoughts like that? The man was a god—an Adonis—and besides all his perfectness, the man was nearly ten years older than me, and my shrink. He knew all my dirty secrets, all my darkest thoughts, and every one of my twisted, horrible defects. And yet he didn't look at me like he did. Surely anyone who knew as much about me and my past as he did would look at me with disgust or pity, but he doesn't.

I shook away my morose thoughts before I started sobbing in his shower, and forced my mind to wander to other things, or even better, be blank. I really use my mind way too much. I shouldn't think so much, it never brings me happiness. I dried off, towel drying my hair and letting it fall around my shoulders still wet. I let it air dry—always. I'm just way too lazy for anything else, especially when I usually don't care at all what my hair looks like. In fact, I like the wet look. The one girl that was even close to being my friend back in Phoenix always said that it looked like a drowned rat, but I really don't have any idea where they came up with that. Maybe it's just because I suck at being a girl.

I threw his sweater over my bra and underwear and quickly scampered out to his bedroom, finding my jeans and t-shirt folded in a pile on the foot of his bed. I slid my jeans on and traded his sweater for my short sleeve rock band top that looked as if it'd been washed at least three hundred times—which it had. But that made it extremely soft over my sensitive skin and that was the only thing that mattered to me. I opened up the top drawer of his dresser, pulling out a pair of socks that looked least like they were designer dress socks and pulled them on. This man was so strange. Not a single pair of socks in that drawer had even one small hole in them. He's a freak. I smiled at that thought—me calling him a freak. That's funny.

When I came out of the bedroom, I stopped in my oblivious tracks, mesmerized by the sight before me. I stood there staring like an idiot with my mouth open. Edward was lounging back comfortably on the sofa, a controller in his hand, with his gaze stuck to the television where vivid graphics skated across the screen at his command. He glanced sidelong at me, just noticing my presence, and smiled the most perfect crooked smile. I loved that smile. I love all his smiles. And they all seem to be crooked. Huh…

"_You_ own an Xbox?" I asked incredulously, pointing at him and the game console on the entertainment center with a skeptically arched brow. I hadn't noticed the machine during my first observation of the media center. He chuckled lowly as he leaned forward, picking up a second black controller from the coffee table and tossing it at me. It landed perfectly in the nest of my hands, pressed against my chest. I was surprised that I didn't drop it, seeing as my attention was solely focused on him. And when your attention is focused on Edward Cullen, there is nothing else.

"A Christmas gift from my brother. He's big into this kind of thing." He told me as I joined him on the sofa. I don't usually play video games, so I don't know much about them.

"Emmett… the wrestler type. And a gamer too, of course." I confirmed wryly, remembering one of our past conversations about his older brother. Emmett was two years older than Edward, and married to an engineer with supermodel looks—Rosalie. Edward said she was a bitch on the surface, and hard to get used to, but she was part of the family.

"What is this?" I asked him curiously, watching the screen with a scrunched brow. It was the strangest sequence of images I'd ever scene. There was this red… thing? And it was wearing blue pants, but it looked like some sort of animal. It was jumping and crawling and rolling through strange obstacles set up in what looked like an old castle.

"Um, _Crash Bandicoot_. Emmett found it hilarious." He told me, glancing between me and the screen evenly.

"Oh I've heard of that."

"Yeah, this is the first time in awhile I've been able to just hang at home and relax, so I figured I might as well try something different. Besides… you're a teenager. Aren't you all supposed to automatically be gaming experts?" His long fingers glided across the controller nimbly as he paid more attention to me than the game and still managed to look like he knew exactly what he was doing and it was the easiest thing in the world. I will never figure out how he does that.

"Um, the last time I played a video game, it was a Nintendo. You know—the ones where you stick the clunky plastic thing in the small slot at the top of the grey box." I told him, gesturing with my hands as I spoke. He laughed at me. I couldn't even fake a pout. I liked his laugh too much. His eyes lit up whenever he laughed, and it spread the most amazing warmth through me.

"Those are still around?" He asked.

"I was six."

"Ohh."

"Shut up."

We had been playing for a little over an hour by the time I finally memorized all the controller buttons. We weren't making much progress though. Every time we succeeded at anything, we'd die again because we were too busy laughing our asses off at the little bandicoot's actions to pay attention to staying alive. The thing was hilarious, in the most insanely ridiculous way. We both literally fell off the sofa we laughed so hard when the bandicoot and its nemesis started fighting. They rolled around on the ground in a cloud of dust making the funniest noises as they smacked each other around brutally. One would pin the other, and start smacking its ass or banging its head into the ground repeatedly. It was vicious. And we couldn't stop laughing. So we ended up just sitting on the floor beside each other, leaning against the sofa as we played. One time, my side was killing me so bad I fell over into his lap. I literally couldn't breath I was laughing so hard. I hadn't felt that good in such a long time. And I'd never in my life laughed as much as I did playing that ridiculous game with him. By the time we'd had enough, it was early afternoon, and he insisted we go out for lunch. At first, I was hesitant. I was worried that once we left the loft, reality would come crashing down on me, and I wasn't ready for that yet. On our way out though, he mentioned stopping by the movie rental store on our way home, and I couldn't control my smile. It was so bad, I had to make him go ahead of me as we walked to his car, just so I could smile behind his back and I wouldn't blush and make a fool of myself. In the car, he fiddled with the radio as he drove, making me extremely nervous because he wasn't exactly driving slowly. But the man has excellent attention capabilities. He's always multi-tasking, no matter what. He's always got more than one thing he's focusing on, yet he manages to do everything perfectly. It's kind of irritating. No, that's a lie. It's not irritating, but it would be, if I could see straight around him. He finally settled on a mix rock station that played everything from metal rock to classic rock to alternative rock. I assumed he only settled on the station because he thought I'd like it—which I did—but he seemed to know most of the songs they played, so I knew his taste in music varied as drastically as mine did.

We ate at an outside table at a café near his building. We were talking about his family when the waitress arrived to take our orders. She tilted so that her back was towards me, and focused her attention solely on him, blatantly flirting with him. I was tempted to comment on her incessant eyelash batting, but the fact that Edward kept his attention on me while he answered my question about his baby sister Alice and her husband placated me enough to be civil with the skanky coed. She had _slutty college girl_ written all over her. And I couldn't believe I was thinking these thoughts. When had I become one of those jealous, bitchy girls? We ordered, and the waitress stomped off in a huff—upset about being ignored by my lunch companion. I suppressed a petty smile. I hated those kinds of girls, and now I was becoming one—at least in my head I was. I had to put a stop to it. We ate in comfortable silence, taking a break from our conversations.

When we were finished, we walked along the main drag, leaving his car at the café as we made it to the small rental store. The geeky 20's something guy behind the counter glared at us for interrupting his comic book reading as we took over an hour milling around the store, discussing our choices—or lack there of—and laughing over the most inconsequential things. We finally both made our pick—I got one choice and he got the other. I chose a classic dark comedy, _Arsenic and Old Lace_, with _Cary Grant_. And he chose a classic suspense, _Hitchcock_'s _Vertigo_. He'd never seen my choice, and I'd never seen his. So it was perfect.

When we got home, he said he had a few things concerning work to take care of, and fell back into his pile of files spread out on his desk that was placed against the wall in between the living room and dining room. I occupied myself with cleaning the kitchen, which had gone forgotten after breakfast. It was almost five in the evening when I was lying down on the sofa with his old copy of _Jane Eyre_. He had suggested _Crime and Punishment_—a classic psychological horror which I had never gotten around to reading, but it sounded like something I'd need to be in the proper mood to get through. So I saved it for a better time and fell back on one of my comforts by _Bronte_. I had already reached chapter 12 when he came and joined me on the sofa. I lifted my legs—which were crossed at the ankles—without looking up from my book, allowing him to sit down before I let my feet fall onto his lap. I was so engrossed in Jane's ill-fated love for the brooding Mr. Rochester that it took me twice as long to realize he was staring at me thoughtfully. I sighed, resting the open book on my chest so I could look at him, laying my palms on my stomach.

"You get done what you needed to?" I asked him, waiting as he nodded affirmatively. We stared at each other for a few moments in silence as I waited for him to say what was on his mind—because I could clearly see there was something he wanted to say.

"Can I show you something?" He asked me hesitantly. I nodded, watching him in curiosity. He patted my ankles and I immediately raised them so he could stand. He held out a hand towards me and I grasped it, allowing him to pull me to my feet. The book fell back on the couch as he led me by the hand towards the spiral staircase in the corner. I still hadn't seen what was upstairs, and every time I asked him about it, he simply shook his head and moved on to something else to distract me. It was just one open room above his bedroom and bathroom, with a metal railing along the balcony edge that looked out over the rest of the loft. It was almost empty, not furnished the same as the rest of the loft. The light wood floor was left bare, without an accent rug, unlike the downstairs. The large open bay window that looked out over the city was curtained with sheer dark blue drapes that were pulled to each side. In the distance, the ocean was viewable from the window. There was a wide, love-seat like black leather reading chair positioned near the window. It was at an angle so that it not only faced the window, but also the large baby grand piano that sat towards the back corner. The only other thing in the room was a small café table positioned near the railing, looking out over the rest of the loft. There were two chairs seated at the table, and it was covered with an antique chess board with its pieces already positioned perfectly. The black chess pieces contrasted with the aged ivory ones. Of course—he's a chess player. It should have been obvious. What surprised me more though was the massive, beautiful piano that was the focus of the room. It seemed the piano was the upstairs room's sole purpose.

"No," I uttered with reverence under my breath, staring in awe at the piano as he led me towards the reading chair, sat me down, and took his own seat on the piano bench. I watched enraptured as he began a foreign composition. His long, deft fingers danced along the piano keys skillfully. The soft notes that enveloped the room were beautiful and unknown to me. The look on his face as he played was magnificent. I was pretty sure I was swooning, but strangely enough, I didn't care. His eyes were filled with passion and affection as they followed his own movements. He'd glance at me now and again, sending my heart fluttering with a spontaneous, crooked smile. He was happy—definitely enjoying himself, and it showed in his beautiful features. His enjoyment was positively ecstatic in its strange serene type of way. That kind of oxymoron feeling where even though your muscles are completely relaxed with happiness and your smile is genuine and lazy your heart still races as if you were jumping up and down with excitement.

* * *

_A/N: Should I continue?_


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_That kind of oxymoron feeling where even though your muscles are completely relaxed with happiness and your smile is genuine and lazy your heart still races as if you were jumping up and down with excitement. _

I sat there for what seemed an eternity—yet still not long enough—listening to Edward's music. I watched him play, completely contented with exactly where I was. I'm no musical expert, especially when it comes to classical, but I knew the piece he was playing was an original. At first I assumed that I just had never heard it before, because let's face it—I'm not exactly a big classical buff. But after awhile I finally realized it was _his_ composition. It helped when he changed notes spontaneously throughout so it was never exactly the same each time I heard it. He went over it once he'd finished again and again, as if he were working with it, trying to perfect it. I thought it was already perfection, and the only thing that prevented it from lulling me to sleep was my eyes not willing to close long enough to lose sight of him. I didn't mind the repetition. It just got lovelier and lovelier each time I heard it. By the time he had finished, the sky was dark, just after twilight.

We went back downstairs and began preparing dinner as we talked. He boiled water for pasta as I defrosted the beef for meatballs and began making the sauce. Yes, homemade sauce. I never use can sauce. Usually I don't care about that kind of stuff and will just do it the lazy way, but sauce is different—special. Sauce is totally my thing. And that is exactly what I told him when he patronized me for not using the jar of Prego he had in the cupboard. I set him up chopping and peeling for the salad ingredients as I shaped the meatballs, and we spoke about his work, and how he was enjoying being a psychologist. He couldn't talk specifically concerning his patients, but he explained the process of taking on a new patient, and the work that is entailed with each and every person he sees. Really, I didn't think there was that much to it, but apparently there's a lot more that goes on besides the hour of therapy. He said he enjoyed his new career path, but that it wasn't his passion, and he was fine with that. He had a good career that he liked, he helped people, and he had a decent amount of spare time for his personal life. What he spoke passionately about though was his music and his other hobbies he enjoyed passionately—like his book and music collection and other things like that. He also mentioned that traveling was a major passion to him. He enjoyed college because it allowed him to study a vast variety of things concerning the world. The man was definitely _not_ narrow-minded.

"So, what about you, Miss Swan?" He asked, using a teasing tone as he said my surname.

"Hmm?"

"How's school?" I shrugged indifferently as I stirred the pasta and spiced the simmering sauce.

"School is… school. It is normal." He looked a little put out by my curt answer and unwillingness to elaborate.

"Well, tell me about your classes? Are you struggling or are you bored with the material? What else do you need in order to graduate, when will you graduate, what about your academics that interests you? Things like that. And I expect more than two word answers." I glanced over my shoulder at him as I faced the stove and he faced the bar, working with his cutting board.

"Ugh, fine." I sighed exaggeratedly in resignation, rolling my eyes for him. "I was in advanced placement in Phoenix, so I've already gathered most of my necessary credits and more than enough extras. I'm not struggling or bored with my classes, just indifferent. I get through fine with the work and I don't really pay that much attention to it. I _was_ working towards finishing my requisites early so that I could take a few certain college courses during my senior year, but that doesn't apply anymore. So this coming year, when I will be a senior, it will pretty much be all free periods—definitely not a vital time in my academics. I'll need to take my last science course, advanced physics, and I'll be taking an advanced writing course in place of English four because I'm working on Brit Lit this year instead of next. I had already finished English one before I made it to freshman year, so I was already ahead of the track on that. I was planning on majoring in Literature and composition and possibly taking on something like photography as a minor, but that's kind of off the table now." I put the meatballs on a cookie sheet and tossed it in the oven as I finished my long-winded speech.

"Now wait a second… why is it off the table? You're not going to be taking college courses next year? Why not?" He asked, pausing his chopping to turn around to stare at me expectantly. I turned away from stirring the pasta to face him as we leaned our backs against opposite sides of the counters.

"Plans change…" I shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm not interested in attending college anymore."

"What changed your mind?"

"I don't know, okay. I just don't think it'd be the right thing for me anymore." I told him, turning back to the stove as I became more uncomfortable with where this was going. He followed me, leaning his hip against my side of the counter as he watched my face closely.

"Alright, continuing your education isn't for everyone. But, if you were looking forward to it enough to plan three years ahead of time and make sure you'd be able to get an early jump on it, what could have changed your mind so abruptly?" I sighed, suddenly not liking his observant badgering. He was using that psychology voice again, like he already knew all the answers, even though I myself didn't. I don't like that I don't know how to answer him. I don't know the answers. I'd never considered it in depth. When I stubbornly didn't answer him, he continued, taking a different tactic. "Well then, what do you _want_ to do after graduation then?"

"I don't know. I'm content with my life the way it is. I probably won't do anything."

"That's a lie." He accused in a non-accusing tone, though there was a hint of scolding somewhere in that melodic voice. My eyes snapped up to meet his piercing gaze. I raised my brow at him, my lips set in a thin line.

"Excuse me?"

"That is a lie, Bella, and we both know it. You're not content with your life. In fact, you're anything but." Well he had me there. If I was content with my life I would have never come to see him in the first place. I guess I just said that because I am content, right now. Maybe not with my life, but for the moment, here in this place, for the past few days, I've felt nothing but contented.

"Okay, so I'll figure something out. I won't do nothing; I'll do something. But I don't have to have it all figured out right now."

"You're right, you're right. You don't need to have it all figured out right now. Just as long as you know there are still things _to_ figure out." He told me wisely, taking my hand from the utensil and taking over my duty of stirring the boiling pasta. I focused my attention on the sauce as he stood beside me in front of the stove in silence. We both had thoughtful expressions as we considered our previous words.

"Music?" He questioned knowingly. I nodded without taking my eyes off the sauce.

"Definitely." He crossed the loft towards the entertainment center, and skimmed through his collection until he found what he was looking for, and set the CD up in his stereo. I sighed, still fretting over his words obsessively. Why had I decided not to go to college? I always enjoyed school. And I'd always planned to go to college. What had changed? That's crap. I know exactly what changed in me—I just don't wanna acknowledge it.

"Alright, the new Nickelback album, or old Eurythmics?" He asked me, joining me in the kitchen with a universal remote in his hand. I spun on my heels to stare at him.

"Eurythmics…? As in…?" He nodded as I smiled nostalgically. "I don't listen to their music with the exception of that one single." I told him, and he nodded in agreement, smiling knowingly at me. That's awesome. We both own the same album because of the same single on that album. But it's a little weird. What would he be doing wanting that single?

"Tell me something Bella… where was it that you first heard that single?" He asked me. I giggled like a little girl as his question brought back a very happy childhood memory.

"_The First Wives Club_ was my favorite movie as a child under ten." I informed him proudly, jutting my chin in the air as I expected him to tease me.

"You were a very odd little girl."

"Well where did you hear it?" I asked defensively.

"I went to see the movie with my mom. Though she was and always has been happily married, she related to the message of strong women rising up and creating meaningful success from supposed failure." He told me in a very technical tone. I laughed at him about the same time he cracked a crooked smile at his poor excuse. He turned and pointed the remote towards the entertainment center, and the feministic independent anthem, _sister's are doing it for themselves_ came on. I really did love that movie when I was a little girl. I was raised by a mom that had string after string of failed relationships before Phil that were completely stereotypical of the entire message that movie expressed. Plus, I loved the three main actresses. Goldie Hawn, Bette Midler, and Diane Keaton were hilarious in that movie while still getting their important point across. I was pleasantly surprised that he was interested in that sort of thing. And from all he'd told me of his mother, Esme, who he seemed to regard with loving admiration, I could imagine her taking him to that movie as a quality time activity. The song was a duet between the British pop band the Eurythmics and Aretha Franklin.

I strained the pasta as he tossed the salad. The sauce was done, just simmering, and the meatballs were ready to come out. We laughed again with each other as the chorus of the song came on. It was upbeat and possessed a positive feel to it. It was the kind of song that no matter your taste in music, you couldn't help but smile as it played. He laughed as I stirred the pasta into the sauce and couldn't help but sing along with my favorite line.

"Now there was a time when they used to say… that behind every_—'great man'_… there had to be a_—'great woman'_." I gave him a sidelong warning glare as he laughed. I knew I could carry a tune, it wasn't my voice he was laughing at—it was my child-like nostalgic excitement. We smiled at each other as we carried the food to the table, and he joined in with my quiet humming as the song carried on.

'_Sisters are doin' it for themselves.  
Standin' on their own two feet.  
And ringin' on their own bells.  
Sisters are doin' it for themselves._

Now this is a song to celebrate  
the conscious liberation of the female state!  
Mothers - daughters and their daughters too.  
Woman to woman  
we're singin' with you.  
The "inferior sex" got a new exterior  
we got doctors, lawyers, politicians too.  
Everybody - take a look around.  
Can you see - can you see - can you see  
there's a woman right next to you?'

When the song ended, the stereo switched CD's, and began playing the new Nickelback album. Edward turned the volume down so that the rock music was background music instead of blaring through the loft. We ate and continued discussing everything from our families to childhood experiences to future plans. He told me about the trip he'd started planning senior year of high school that he was still planning on taking someday. He was going to go to backpack through Europe before stopping permanently in Ireland and buying a small cottage on the Cliffside. I nearly cried as he described his plan with dreamy excitement and passion. I seriously nearly cried. It wasn't sad or extremely joyous or anything, so I don't understand why I almost started bawling my eyes out. It was just something about the way he spoke of it, and the look in his eyes. That and the fact that it sounded better than perfection—his plan. That would be something to do with my life. Instead of spending my life working up the corporate career ladder or anything else of the sort, I could run away to Ireland and life on a hillside near the ocean where there was nothing around for miles and miles. It sounded amazing. I'd always wanted to be a writer—that would fit with hiding out in Ireland. It sounded like a paradise life.

After dinner, he retreated to the bedroom after answering a call from his sister, Alice. I cleaned up dinner and washed the dishes. I used my cell to check the voicemail at home, listening to Renee's three different messages—all saying pretty much the same thing. 'She and Phil were having a great time out in Cali, and she was worried that I hadn't called her back. And that I should be sure I'm eating enough.' After I returned her call and checked in, and spoke for about ten minutes, I hung up and called the bank's automated service line to check my accounts. Phil assured me he would be wiring the monthly amount for the household expenses so I could pay the bills and have enough for groceries and extras so that I didn't need to take it out of my savings, which had been rapidly decreasing these last few months. I checked the balance. My savings was going to be running out soon if I continued this way. What with the weekly sessions and such. I'd need to get a job soon, which I didn't have a problem with. It would be a good distraction. I just really didn't want to work somewhere sunny where I had to be _'cheery beach town girl.'_ There was no way I could pull that off. I went to the local library once, and it was pretty extensive. Maybe I could get a job there?

I snapped my cell shut just as he was coming out of the bedroom, saying goodbye to Alice. Or at least he was trying to say goodbye. Every time he would begin to say it, she would start talking again on the other end of the line. He walked up behind me as I was wiping the granite counter down with the sponge, holding the phone to his ear.

"Yes… I know, but… no it's not like that… I told you… yeah, but… I don't think that's a very good idea… I know you do, but I… yes… yes… yes… NO… uh, definitely not… alright, I'll ask…" I smiled, leaning my head down to hide it as I listened to his one sided conversation with my back facing him. I held back my laughter at his exasperated tone. He sounds completely different when he's talking to his sister. Something changes drastically about his air, but I can't put my finger on it. He leaned against my side of the counter, leaning backwards far enough so he could see my turned down face. He pressed the mouth piece of the phone into his shoulder as he rolled his eyes at her for me.

"Um, would you mind… speaking to me sister." He mumbled the last part reluctantly, avoiding eye contact. I laughed at his expression, and pointed a finger at my chest.

"She wants to talk to me?" I asked skeptically. He nodded, and when I finally nodded back, he shoved the phone towards me. I held it hesitantly up to my ear as if the thing would take a snap at me.

"Um… hello?"

"Bella!" The chirpy little voice from the other end cried out excitedly. I pulled the phone back, rubbing my ear out before returning to the ear piece.

"Yes, Alice right?"

"Yeah, I'm Alice, Edward's little sister. Did he tell you I'm in college?"

"Um, yeah."

"Oh good. Well, he says you're staying with him."

"He does…? I mean I am… kinda."

"Well that is good. No, that is excellent! Tell me though Bella, high school student Bella… where are you sleeping?" I choked… like really choked, coughing so loud Edward appeared behind me and started patting my back.

"Uh… the sofa?" I said it like a question. The girl asked me the question like she was asking what color my hair was. It was strange, and I had no idea what to think about it.

"Oh." That's all she said for a moment, and I couldn't tell if she was satisfied or disappointed. "Well anyway, I hang out at the university café a lot, studying and all. You know college is hard—requires lots of studying."

"I would assume so."

"Yeah well, we should meet sometime… yeah we should definitely meet."

"Um, okay?"

"Yeah definitely. I'll figure something out. Give Edward your cell number so he can give it to me so I can call you and we can set up a date… you and me I mean. We can hang out. Anyways, I gotta go, tell my brother—behave and Alice knows all. Bye Bye Bella." She hung up, and I held the phone out in front of me, staring at it strangely. Edward anticipated my thoughts and understood my reaction. He took the phone out of my hands and returned it to its hook. He turned back to me and gave me an apologetic smile.

"Sorry about that. Alice is… well, Alice. She's a lot to take in at once." He explained. I nodded, snapping out of it quickly.

"It's fine. She seemed really nice, if not a bit over-zealous. Oh, and she told me to tell you to behave and that Alice knows all." He laughed at my words, shaking his head. After a little while of us discussing his baby sister, I returned to the kitchen to dish us out some ice cream as he set up the first movie we rented. I wasn't even going to attempt to touch his media center. I would break it, or it would malfunction and electrocute me, or I would knock something over and it would all come crashing down in a mangled mess. The ice cream and the spoon were much safer. I told him that, and he agreed laughingly despite that we were both completely serious.

We both settled in on the sofa with the lights turned out and his surround sound turned up as _Vertigo_ began. By the time the end rolled around, I was sufficiently feeling the creepiness. It was a good movie, better than I expected, worse than I'd hoped. The kind you enjoy watching once, but wouldn't go out of your way to re-watch. Edward somehow ended up with the small couch pillow in his lap, and I somehow ended up with my head on it. We watched _Arsenic and Old Lace_ next, giggling involuntarily the whole way through. I'd forgotten how hilariously ingenious the movie was. It used to be one of my favorites. The only reason it wasn't still was because I'd simply forgotten about it. I hadn't been in to movies much these past few years. Cary Grant played a drama critic opposed to marriage, who'd recently eloped with his neighbor, the minister's daughter, and returns home to his two favorite old aunts when he discovers the sweet old women's favorite pass time. They enjoy poisoning lonely old men and burying them in their basement. Add in a clinically and completely insane live-in cousin who believes he's president Roosevelt, and a criminally insane long lost brother who comes home for a visit with a body of his own to bury, and a frazzled, slapstick Cary Grant and you've got great comedy. Frank Capra was really a great playwright. Besides the original Romeo and Juliet, and Pride and Prejudice, this has to be one of my most beloved movies.

We were watching as Cary Grant's character, Mortimer Brewster, sits down to explain the story of a bad horror play to Peter Lorre, and as he's doing so, everything that happened in the story is happening right behind him. I laughed out loud as Brewster's eyes bugged out hysterically as the villain gagged him and the oblivious police officer believed the villains explanation of it and walked away. Edward's hand fell onto my stomach as we laughed. I was lying on my back with my head turned towards the screen in his lap.

"_Can we talk?"_

"Sure, pull up a tombstone." We recited our favorite quote from the movie laughingly as the credits rolled by just after Brewster ran out into the street with his girlfriend slung over his shoulder and the cab driver called out to him—"I'm not a cab driver, I'm a coffee pot!"—after being driven crazy throughout the entire movie by the lead character. We were still elated from the movie, and not ready to go to bed, so we just laid there as Edward flipped through the channels for late night showings. My head had still been resting in his lap by the time he scooted down on the sofa until he was lying down comfortably with his legs propped up. I somehow ended up lying on his chest, burrowing my face in his soft sweater as I fell asleep just after he did. I vaguely remember repositioning myself later on in the night as I blindly fumbled for the remote which had fallen onto the floor, and turned off the TV. I crawled back onto the couch in the pitch dark, and snuggled back up into his warm, sleeping body. I barely had time to think grudgingly_—"He stole my pillow…"_—before I was once again unconscious.

* * *

_A/N: Should I still continue? The end is planned out. Should I get it over with, or draw it out?_

_Special thanks to…_

_Everyone who reviewed. You kept me going and I'm glad you're enjoying the story._

_Tulipp: I wish I could have replied to your review. It was greatly appreciated. I loved hearing your observations and opinions. Your opinion on my writing style was just what I needed to hear to get my excitement rejuvenated._

_cristiann romero: Again, I really appreciated your review. I also liked hearing your thoughts on the story and the answer to your questions is yes. _


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_I crawled back onto the couch in the pitch dark, and snuggled back up into his warm, sleeping body. I barely had time to think grudgingly—"He stole my pillow…"—before I was once again unconscious. _

I woke up with a bad feeling, like a hand squeezing my heart painfully, and knew something bad was going to happen, if it hadn't already. Then I noticed where I was. I was curled up on the sofa, a blanket I didn't have when I fell asleep was thrown over me. And the stark wrongness to the situation made itself apparent after a few moments of trying to figure out what was missing. The warm body that I had been sleeping beside was missing. My brain tried to tell me that he was always awake before me, and probably is just in the shower, or somewhere… but the hand closed over my chest tighter than before and I knew something bad was coming. I thought everything was good. I'd fallen asleep so completely comfortable and relaxed that my normal warning alerts didn't go off in my head. Great… which means he fell asleep, and I like… I don't know, molested him or something in my sleep, or simply took advantage of him by lying with him like that as I slept. He must have woken up and freaked out and didn't want to hurt me or something. Or maybe he just didn't know how to talk to me about what he thought he needed to talk to me about. Like he needed to talk to me about my unnatural attachment to him. My thoughts were going a hundred miles a minute as I panicked over something I had no right to panic about. God, what was I doing? What had I done? What had I done to myself? I'm screwed. I knew it… I knew it. I'm totally screwed. What the hell am I going to do? He's going to… and I'll… I won't be able to… How am I going to fix myself now? I mean damn it, how many times can I break without shattering? I'm just way too fragile. I need to fix this. I have to get control of myself. I have to get control over this situation. I need to distance myself, bring up my walls before it's too late.

I froze my panicking, repressed it, and locked it in a sturdy box in my mind and shoved all my other insecurities and wrong thoughts and feelings in it as well. Well, I thought I did at least. A little voice in the back of my head scoffed at my naivety, but I promptly ignored it. I was fine. It was no big deal. So I had a tiny… tiny infatuation with my therapist. That was okay, as long as I kept it to myself, and quickly got over it. I was _not_ in love with him. I had just found a fixation, an obsession to distract me from my issues and unhappiness.

It was not real. It was not real. It was not real.

It couldn't be real. I was just confused emotionally… you know, due to rape victim's psychological trauma… or something like that. Oh, I don't know what I'm saying. That sounded like a bunch of crap. But I know what I mean, even though what I'm saying isn't the same as what I mean to say. Great, I gave myself a migraine.

I forced all thoughts to a screeching halt before I broke and shattered into sobs like some weak creature. I needed my numbness back before I went completely insane… unless I already had, and all this was the product of that. God, I hope not. I folded up the comforter and placed it on the chair in the corner. I knocked on his bedroom door to make sure it was empty before going in to take a shower. After my shower, I went into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee and found some already brewing with a slip of paper pinned under the coffeemaker.

_Bella,_

_I had to go in to work. I have a few appointments in the early afternoon. I promised to stop by Alice and Jasper's on the way home, so don't expect me back till late. I already returned the movies, so don't worry about it. Please, make yourself at home. And don't forget to eat._

_Edward_

Okay, now I feel like an even bigger idiot. Luckily though, no one was around to witness my brief meltdown. I was at least thankful for that. But my decision was still a sound one. I needed my walls back up, and fast. Things were getting out of hand and it was not his fault. It wasn't his doing at all—in fact—he had no idea what was going on with me. Hell, I don't even know what's going on with me. _Lie_. Yeah, okay, so I know what's wrong with me, doesn't mean I have to admit it. It was actually pretty simple really. I lost my mind, fell in love with a man I could never have, and allowed him to get too close so that when he pulls back, I will really shatter this time. There will be no picking up the pieces after this one if I don't distance myself and somehow figure out a way to detach myself from him emotionally. I would normally talk to my therapist about this… but as you can imagine, that wouldn't exactly be possible in this situation.

Wait, didn't he tell me he had no appointments this week at all? Isn't it Friday? Yeah, it's Friday. In our last session, Dr. Cullen mentioned that he was not scheduling any appointments for the week of spring break. When I assumed that meant our Friday session this week would be cancelled, he told me that he would keep my appointment if I really needed it, but wouldn't be seeing anyone else that day. I politely declined his offer, not wanting to receive special treatment, knowing it would only make my 'condition' worse. So he wasn't supposed to have any sessions today. Which meant… what? He lied? Why would he lie about where he was going? Why would it matter? Why am I still obsessing over something I'm not supposed to be thinking about? I have no idea. After that, I did the unthinkable in a moment of weakness… I checked his medicine cabinet for something to take the edge off and stop my racing thoughts. I know, I know, I'm going to hell. But I couldn't stop myself. Unfortunately—or fortunately depending on how you look at it—he didn't have anything of use. So I did the next thing I could think of to distract myself… I cleaned. And when I had done all his laundry, scrubbed the already clean kitchen, cleaned the bathroom, dusted the entire loft, and then mopped all the floors... I sat down with _Jane Eyre_ once again. When I couldn't force myself to concentrate on the words I was reading, I gave up reading, put down the book, and in my frustration, was brave enough to attempt touching the media center. I loaded four random CD's into the stereo and blasted it loud enough to deafen my thoughts but not disturb the neighbors. Then, I started cooking. I baked a chocolate cake—because for some reason I have been craving it for the last two weeks—and when I was done with that, I set it aside on a beautiful platter I was absolutely sure his mother, Esme had bought for him, and moved on to baking cookies. I would have made chocolate chip cookies, but he didn't have any chips in the house, so I made snickerdoodle's… and oatmeal cookies… and peanut butter cookies… and I even experimented a little, creating a brand new kind of cookie, which I was too busy starting on the next type of baked good to taste out.

By the time I was done and almost completely coming down from my frantic mood it was already dark and after dinner time. I piled all the cookies on several plates, covered them with saran wrap, and set them aside on the bar, surrounding the covered cake platter that hadn't been touched since I'd made it that morning. I then cleaned up my mess of flour and sugar and god knows what else, scrubbing the counters and stove before starting on dinner. I made lasagna. And as it was in the final stage of baking in the oven, I slid some pre-made garlic toast on a sheet and put them in with the casserole dish. I started making the salad, chopping the cucumbers and carrots as the lettuce and baby tomatoes already sat in the salad bowl. I wasn't tired at all. In fact, I was still a little charged. And to think, I hadn't even taken anything from the medicine cabinet. I guess it was just some all day freak-out that started with my morning meltdown. I knew once it wore off I'd be ready to collapse in exhaustion, but I tried not to think about that and stay distracted with the tasks in front of me. No more analyzing, no more looking to the future, no more worrying, no more emotional weakness… all the new resolutions I'd put into place today. The new Bella. Get by one moment at a time and you'll be fine. That's my new philosophy. And I was going to stick to it.

I took the lasagna and toast out of the oven and set them on the stove to cool. I found myself humming Edward's mystery composition as I worked. I realized what I was doing just about the same time I yelped in pain after slicing my finger with the cutting knife. Great, I was bleeding. I rushed over to the sink and stuck my finger under rapid running cold water before the smell of copper pennies and rust could make me nauseous. I would not faint. I told myself that… over and over again until the smell dissipated and the finger stopped bleeding. I went to the bathroom to find a band-aid before returning to the kitchen and cleaning up the bloody mess I made on the marble cutting board. Yeah, I said marble. Black and white marble cutting board… rich people. I scoffed, shaking my head at the thought. I quickly finished slicing the vegetables with a clean knife and tossed the salad. I left the salad bowl on the bar as I set the small dining table. I had just finished, and was returning to the kitchen when the door slammed closed behind him as Edward glided into the loft. I glanced at him briefly, not stopping as I rounded the bar towards the stove. I tried not to spend more than a few seconds at a time looking at him, or I would lose my walls.

"I lied." His velvety voice came out of nowhere in a distressed tone as he shrugged off his coat while standing by the door and hung it on the rack.

"Excuse me?"

"I lied, in my note. I didn't have to work. I spent the day at my sister's."

"I know, but why?"

"Because I needed to get away." He admitted, crossing the loft towards me. He entered one side of the kitchen as I left the other side with the lasagna dish, setting it on the table.

"Away from me, you mean. This is your home. Don't let me chase you out of it. I'll go." I told him as I returned to the kitchen for the plate of toast, avoiding his eyes. I thought I did well though… my voice didn't break or waver, it stayed detached and unaffected. I was proud of myself. I still couldn't look at him though. I knew there would be unshed tears in my eyes. I couldn't let him see that.

"I didn't want you to go. I just couldn't stay." He said. I set the toast down on the table, sighing tiredly. That exhaustion was finally catching up to me.

"That doesn't make sense." I told him tiredly. My shoulders were slumped and my eyes were downcast as I grabbed the salad bowl off the bar, trying to keep as much distance between us as possible. I was pretty sure I was about to cry and lose my last shred of dignity. But really, what was dignity worth when put in perspective with severe pain? I was almost to the breakfast nook with the salad bowl when I felt him round the bar and come up behind me.

"I know it doesn't. Nothing makes sense anymore." He told me. He sounded in pain, and I felt his breath on my neck as I stopped walking towards the table, and I knew he was hovering over me, too close again. Finally, something he said that I understand. Nothing makes sense at all. I was just about to turn towards him with my brave face when I felt his hand close over my arm, and he spun me around to face him. My mouth opened to speak, but before any words got out his lips were against mine. He attacked my mouth with his own as the salad bowl slipped from my fingers and spilled out on the floor around us. My fingers threaded through his hair and gripped his shoulder as his hands landed on the small of my back as it arched, pulling me closer. We were breathless and frenzied, and I finally understood it. Something made sense. This made sense. Yup, this made perfect, excruciating sense. I licked my lips against his mouth as we gasped for much needed air supply without separating from each other's touch. His hands gripped my sides softly, guiding me backwards and sideways until I was suddenly lifted off my feet and pressed against the bar. I think the cake platter crashed to the floor as we laid down on the bar, still pushing and pulling and massaging and tasting with our mouths, ignoring the need for air, but I wasn't sure, because it only vaguely entered my mind before I completely lost all brain functioning capabilities.

I felt his body pressing against mine, melding with mine as we gave and took instinctively. It felt right, and god it felt good. My fingertips pressed solidly into his back as I pulled him even closer. His hands were in my hair, on my hips, my thighs, my waist, my neck, like he couldn't decide what part of me he wanted most. I understood the feeling. My legs wrapped around his waist, forcing him even closer as our tongues danced. Our lips broke apart, gasping frantically for air as we panted heavily. My head fell back onto the hard countertop as his mouth moved along my skin, under my ear, down my jaw line, to my neck, and along my collarbone before returning to my mouth. I couldn't think, I couldn't breath, and I couldn't stop… because most of all, I couldn't get enough. He matched my sentiment with his actions.

"Bella…" It fell from his lips as they caressed my own. His eyes were closed and his brow was creased in fierce concentration. He was fighting against himself, just the same as I was. His hands cradled my face lovingly as his fingers remained threaded through my hair. Our chests heaved in synchronized rhythms as we pressed our lips together over and over again. My hand gripped the back of his neck as the other slid down his chest, over his back, and through his hair. It stopped at his neck, and my palm rested against his cheek. My fingers lightly traced over his face clumsily and I let my thumb trace his bottom lip before my lips got in the way. The frenzy of the moment died down, and allowed me to appreciate the wonderfulness of it. But as the frenzy left our bodies, the peace that followed allowed our thoughts more room to roam.

_Oh god. No… this is so wrong. This will only end horribly. Get out, step back, protect yourself!_

My mind screamed at me. It was wrong, very wrong. Did I care? Now I know, without a doubt… I really don't. It would end badly. I was sure of it. But it felt so good. Could I handle it if I didn't protect myself when it ended badly? No, I was sure I couldn't. Was it worth it? Now I know… it's worth it. Oh no, not good. No, no, no, no, n—screw new Bella. I don't care.

I felt myself tense up under his touch as his hand skimmed over a part of my chest that was still trying to heal the sensitive bruise, and I hissed involuntarily against his soft lips. He noticed immediately, and it seems that that was exactly the reminder he needed to get his brain working again and back in control, because he immediately pulled away. I tried to ignore the dull ache of emptiness his touch's departure spread through me. He pulled away, turning his back to me as if I'd bitten him… in a bad way. I sat up from where he'd perched me on the edge of the bar, and leaned my hands on either side of my legs, letting my gaze fall to my lap as my breath calmed down and my flushed face cooled. His back was still towards me as he ran a hand worriedly through his hair. He expelled a painful, self-deprecating breath of air, and I immediately felt horrible guilt wash over me. He turned around slowly to face me with a pained expression. The look in his eyes was horrible. I couldn't take it. I had to turn away. And I hated myself for causing that look. He didn't deserve to feel that way, if he felt the way he looked like he felt, or even half that. He deserved so much better. I shouldn't have been here. I shouldn't have been throwing myself at him. God, what kind of person am I? I can't believe I did this to him. And all I was worrying about was how I would fell, what it would do to me. I'm so selfish. I didn't even think about what I was doing to him.

"I'm sorry." I whispered breathily, holding back my tears as I kept my face down, ashamed and vulnerable. His face scrunched at my words, and I thought he would cry.

"Oh god." He exclaimed, rubbing a hand over his face, hiding a pained grimace as he turned away again. "Oh god." He repeated to himself in a broken voice. I felt my self-hate grow at the sound of his melodic, heavenly voice sounding so screwed up and broken. "What have I done?" He whispered brokenly to himself. I couldn't hold back my tears any longer. God, what have I done? I'm so screwed up. I ruin everything. I always screw everything up. I always hurt people because I'm so weak. I'm always so weak. I couldn't stop the tears that fell down my cheeks with rapidly increasing speed. I covered my mouth to contain my sob, not wanting to draw his attention and have him turn back around and see me like this. It would only make things worse. And here I am, still making things worse by being weak, by crying. I can never win. What can I do? How can I fix myself? How can I make it better? I just couldn't stop crying, even though I knew it was only making things worse. I sniffled pathetically and his hands finally dropped from his head and he turned back around to look at me. I wanted to run away. I didn't want him to see me. I briefly considered running to the bathroom and locking myself in until I could control myself. But I just couldn't force my body to move from my spot on the bar as my body shook with the wracking sobs and I lost the last thread of control I had, causing the damn to break as I completely fell apart. I slid off the edge of the bar as I sobbed, still holding my hand over my mouth. The tears blurred my vision so bad I couldn't see anything at all, but I felt his arms wrap around me before I hit the ground.

He lowered me gently to the ground as I sobbed and he rocked me back and forth, cradling me in his lap. I couldn't breathe, or think, or control myself enough to even soften the sobs as my body trembled. I just clung to him, ruining his shirt as I cried like the weak creature I was. It had finally happened. I had finally shattered. And the only thing I registered at all was the soft humming my beautiful angel used his heavenly voice for as he sang his composition for me. Three thoughts were stuck screaming out deliriously in my mind over and over again like a broken record—perfect for the broken girl.

_I'm so sorry. I'm so weak. I love you. _

* * *

_A/N: Keep going, yes, no?_

_Thank you for the reviews. You got this chapter up. And to those unsigned, thank you to Ally, the coolest pillow, and cristiann romero... _


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_Three thoughts were stuck screaming out deliriously in my mind over and over again like a broken record—perfect for the broken girl. I'm so sorry. I'm so weak. I love you. _

I was pathetic. It had been three weeks since that night I had shattered. I had sat there sobbing until I exhausted myself to the brink of unconsciousness. When I woke up the next morning, he was still holding me in his lap, watching me thoughtfully. I woke up with my walls back in place, where they should have been all along. So I didn't re-shatter when he told me he couldn't see me anymore—not even as my doctor. I kept my dignity that morning and made a graceful exit. I must have used all the tears my body had to give the night before because I didn't cry then. I was numb. The same as before him, the same as I'd always be. It's what I have to be if I want to survive. And you do what you have to in order to survive, to keep breathing, to keep existing. That's all I am doing really—existing. I'm not alive, not really. I'm a zombie, completely dull. I have to be, there's no other choice other than to feel, to feel it all, and to shatter permanently—to never be put back together.

Renee came home last week—in the middle of April—and we've been spending time together. I think she knows what's wrong—well, at least partially, but luckily she hasn't brought it up. I got a job at the local library as a student aid—just as I'd planned. I wake up from a restless, nightmarish night, and I go to school. I focus solely on my schooling and absolutely nothing else, until I come home. I cook for Renee, I force food down my throat, and I get ready for work. Then I go to work, and I focus solely on my job, and absolutely nothing else. Then I come home from work, and I fret around the house vacantly searching for distractions. That's all my life is now, numb distractions to get me through the day, to help the time pass faster. Time is meaningless to me now. Life feels just the same as it did after the attack. Meaningless, empty, and slow-moving. Only now the pain is sharper than it was. Before it was a blunt pressure pressing down on me, suffocating me slowly. But now, there's this hole in me, leaving me empty, and the pain is sharper, more acute and noticeable. There's this gaping hole that nothing can fill. It's the only part of me that isn't completely numb.

Mom and I were sitting on the couch together, watching a movie. Well, Renee was watching a movie while I stared at a blurry screen. My sight seemed less bright, less defined lately. We had been sitting in silence as the time passed. But she abruptly broke it with an anxious tone, turning to face me on the couch.

"Bells, do you want to talk about it?" She waited a moment for me to respond or acknowledge that she had spoken. When I didn't blink, just stared blankly at the screen, she sighed and continued.

"Losing someone is difficult to recover from, trust me I know." She said. I blinked dazedly, licking my lips slowly, like my movements were dragged down by water, only they weren't. It was just another technique I learned to help the time pass. Move, think, talk, act slower and it would take more time—which means more time would pass. I turned to look at her with a strange expression.

"What do you mean?" I asked, not understanding her words. I understood the words themselves, of course, but I didn't get what they meant.

"Well, I know it may be none of my business, but the last time you got like this it was because of a breakup." No it wasn't. I'd never dated anyone before. Therefore, I'd never experienced a breakup. But that's what she believes—because that's what I told her. I told her that to cover up the truth. The truth was that my best friend, the only person I had trusted had violated that trust… and me, in the most unthinkable way. Yeah, she was better off thinking my non-existent boyfriend had broken up with me.

"I… love someone I shouldn't. And he doesn't feel the same way. He can't. We stopped spending time with each other awhile ago. I'm just a little depressed, mom. I'll be fine, as always." I assured her blankly, saying the words like a line from a script. I knew what she needed to hear to stop worrying and move on from the issue. So I said it.

"Oh, oh baby, I'm so sorry. But you're right, it's for the best. You'll be okay. You just need time." She assured me in her motherly voice. I didn't bother correcting her. And I never said it was for the best. But what does that matter? I could see it in her expression—she needed to ask something else. I figured I might as well get it over with so she can go back to her state of oblivion as quickly as possible.

"Yes, mom?" I asked, prodding her to continue. She fidgeted.

"Well… you said you were spending time together?" I nodded slowly. "Well, I guess I just wanted to make sure you were… you know… safe." She spilled out. I was almost inspired to give a true reaction. I shook my head at her assumption.

"No, mom, we weren't like that. I'm still a virgin." I told her. It wasn't a lie, not really. Technically, no I'm not a virgin. That was stolen from me almost a year ago. But I have never given myself to someone willingly. In fact, the only time I've ever even wanted to was when I met _him_. That's right—he's been reduced to _him_. I can't even say his name. It only leads to bad things for me.

"Oh, oh well good. You should wait until you're in love." She paused; looking stricken as she most likely remembered that I'd just admitted to loving someone that didn't feel the same. "I mean, you should wait until its right. Really right and you'll know when it is… right I mean. Maybe you should wait until marriage. I mean, you're not even 18 yet. The time will come." I shook my head mechanically at her words.

"I'm not getting married, mom." I informed her matter-of-factly.

"That's what I thought before I met Phil." She told me, smiling like a love-struck teenager. I rolled my eyes.

"Mom, you seem to forget that Phil is your _second_ husband. Remember Charlie...? My father, the man still hopelessly in love with you its pathetic." Great, now I was Charlie. That was about it for our conversation. Renee retreated to her room to mope poetically over her past love and her current love and I retreated to my room with my latest copy of _Gone with the Wind_. I lost myself in Rhett and Scarlett's depressive, tempestuous, ill-fated love story, and momentarily allowed my numbness to recede in favor of feeling their emotional rollercoaster over the backdrop of war in Georgia. I could handle the emotions better when they weren't my own. When I was feeling the fictional characters emotions it was just catharsis. That was the only time I could let the protective blanket of numbness move aside temporarily.

Renee decided to go out for the night for some adult fun as I curled up with my book and allowed the tears to come. It was safe when the tears were for Scarlett and Rhett, and not for myself. Then they wouldn't get out of hand, and they'd subside quickly after I distanced myself from the fictional world. Catharsis, I told myself. Just some healthy catharsis. It would have been fine, if the doorbell hadn't rang during my catharsis and ripped me out of my safe haven world prematurely. I tried to ignore it, but the ringing became incessant when I didn't answer after five minutes. I knew exactly who was at the door, and I definitely couldn't afford to interact with them when I was still reeling and emotionally fragile from my catharsis. But I couldn't ignore the loud ringing any longer, and I didn't know how to deactivate the bell. I made a note to ask Phil to show me how to do it the next time he came home as I trudged grudgingly towards the door. I unlocked the deadbolt, and unlinked the security chain before swinging the door open and leaning against its rim.

"Bella… where ya been? I've been out here for like an hour."

"Marcus." I acknowledged him icily, or I tried to, but my voice just came out tired and blank.

"Oh good, you remember my name. I was doubting that since I haven't seen you in so long. It's been over a month, Bells. Where ya been?"

"I've been busy. And if I hadn't been busy, I still wouldn't have taken the time to see you." Again, my efforts for icy turned into blank boredom. He gestured for me to step aside, and when I didn't, he shoved past me rudely. I shut the door behind him, rolling my eyes tiredly. He plopped down on the sofa, and made himself at home. I leaned my back against the door, refusing to move further into the room he was in. My arms folded defensively against my chest.

"My bruises faded a few weeks ago, in case you were interested." I commented bitterly. He had the decency to look down for a moment in brief shame.

"Yeah, sorry about that. That was a bad night." He shrugged. I glared at him.

"Yeah, you have a lot of bad nights. Next time, buy a punching bag." I spat at him with far less venom than I should have. But it was all I could muster up. I really couldn't make myself very angry at him. It wasn't important. Other than wariness and irritation, I didn't feel anything for what he'd done, and what he could do. When he looked up, glaring furiously at me for my comment, it occurred to me that tonight was most likely one of his bad nights. I waited until his attention was drawn away to move casually towards the kitchen where my messenger bag was sitting on one of the dining chairs. I rummaged slowly in my bag, looking for something inconspicuously. My fingers closed around my black stun gun and I slid it out of the bag and into the back of my jeans, at the small of my back, when he wasn't looking.

I returned to the living room and stood behind the chair that sat across from the couch. My hand lingered behind my back as my lips set in a thin, determined line. I knew I was provoking him, and I knew I shouldn't. He reacts badly when I provoke him, I know this. So why was I doing it? I really don't know. But that's not stopping me.

"I'm in the middle of something, so you should go. I'm not up for company tonight." I told him strongly, keeping my gaze unwavering. He got to his feet slowly, glaring at me dangerously.

"My parents are fighting again, Bella. And Stephanie is pissed at me, so I can't go to her house. I won't get in your way." He told me in a low, menacing voice that left no room for argument. If I was sane, or smart, I would have taken a hint from his tone and the look in his eyes. But apparently I'm not either of those things, so I didn't.

"You _are_ in my way. And I want you to leave, now." My voice was strong and resolute. It was a big improvement from the dullness it was before. He got mad, like I knew he would, and his fists clenched furiously at his sides. He took a measured step towards me, and I rounded the couch, walking backwards slowly towards the entryway. He followed me as we held a staring contest of sorts. He was waiting for me to break, to wince, and back down. I won't. I'm already broken, there's nothing left to break in me. And I have no reason to back down. This was my home, whether it felt like it to me or not. He was an invader, a violator that didn't belong in this place. I don't know what happened, but something inside me snapped, clicked into place and I became resolute. He was a violator. My mind didn't even stumble over the fact anymore. It went over it, plowed over it bluntly, matter-of-factly because it was the truth. There's no use denying or hiding from the truth. It always finds you.

I stopped walking backwards as my back softly collided with the wooden slab of door. The only exit. _The only way out, the only escape_. My mind screamed at me before I got control over it. No, there were many escapes if I needed them, but I didn't. I wouldn't use them. Because this is my home, my place, _mine_. No one would run me out of what was mine. They force their way in and they terrorize and torture and destroy, but they never run me out. I stand my ground. That is the one thing they can never take from me by stealing and forcing. They can't take it away. They can't make me back down. I will always stand my ground. I don't have to throw away the numbness to be resolute about that. This was something beyond pain and love and life and aliveness. This was principle.

I finally got it. I finally understood. I stared evenly back at him as he invaded my personal space, planting his hands against the door on either side of my head. I could feel his menacing breath caress my face and I fought the urge to cringe. My body was trembling, but my gaze was unwavering and resolute. My soul was resolute. My body's reaction was traitorous, but it held no bearing on my decision. I would stand my ground, no matter what they did to me.

He stayed silently fuming in his fury like that, menacing over me like an invader trying to intimidate me. It didn't matter. I swallowed bravely before speaking in a low, firm voice that did not shake.

"Get out." I demanded, remaining calm as he glowered at me. His hand pulled back before I could register and the back of his hand, mostly knuckles, scraped against my soft skin and my head snapped to the side with the force of the strike. I bit my lip to stop any sound my body may have wanted to make. A searing white hot fire burst into my face, along my jaw and cheekbone. My hair was stuck to my face, curtaining it from him like a shield. I didn't need it. I slowly turned my face back to meet his gaze once again. I didn't waver. I wouldn't. I smelled blood, and felt it trickle down from the corner of my lip. I ignored the nausea and the psychical pain. It was practically nothing compared to the pain inside me. And that pain wouldn't fade or heal, it was constant and would always be with me no matter what I did. I never asked for it, I didn't truly believe I deserved it, but nonetheless, it was forced upon me, and it was something I would have to bear. I spit my blood in his face as I refused to flinch away from his attacks. The stun gun pressed uncomfortably against the small of my back, but I didn't notice enough to care. It didn't occur to me to take it out, to use it… not yet.

"I said leave." I told him quietly in a strong, angry voice. He wouldn't listen. I knew that, but just like I wouldn't run, I had to say it. My hand that had lingered behind my back, gripped my stomach as his knee collided painfully with my ribs, most likely fracturing one or two. I fell to my knees, and closed my eyes. I could take it, and I did. I could take all the pain and misery they threw at me. I could take it all, just like I always did. But I didn't run. I would never run. I would stand my ground, and take the punches. That's what I kept telling myself in my mind… over and over again as he took all his inner anger out on me. The pain was excruciating. If anyone ever tells you differently, they're a lair. It was horrible. I felt my resolve give and I didn't believe I could survive the pain, but I did. You lay there and you take it and you think—"there's no way I can take this. It hurts too bad. Its too much. I can't survive this."—and then the morning rolls around and you find that you've survived. It may not feel like you've survived, but you have. Finally, when I couldn't take it anymore, I bit past the excruciating pain, and I reached my stun gun. I pulled it out and charged it as I shoved the two steel prongs into his thigh. It got really blurry from then on out, and I was pretty sure I had a concussion. But I did register his scream of pain and the loud _thud_ as he fell to the floor, writhing beside me. I smiled through the blood and pain at that. At least he was feeling it with me this time. I was surprised to find that that made me feel better. I wasn't sure what that said about me, obviously not that I was a good person, but I didn't care.

I pulled myself up from the floor, and limped my way to my car. I left him there unconscious on my entryway floor, hoping that he woke up and dragged his worthless ass home before Renee got home. I didn't want her knowing about this. I—by some kind of miracle—made it to the hospital, which is just a few miles down the road from my house. I parked… somewhere, I was pretty sure, and then made it to the ER bay. I let them usher me in and guide me somewhere, I was kind of loopy by that point. I was definitely sure I had a concussion—or some other brain damage. Because I was almost completely out of it. They sutured a laceration on my inner arm that they said I got from some sort of glass. I didn't remember glass, but there was a faint recollection of mom's vase breaking, maybe that was it. I must have hit it as I fell. Then they sutured the back of my head which was bleeding. That explained the mild concussion they said I had. See, I was right. I waited in an exam room for my x-ray results to come back. When the doctor that was reading my scans came into the room, the weirdest sense of déjà vu swept over me.

He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen—besides for _him_. He was middle-aged, but looked as if he was twenty. His blonde hair was wavy and thick in a familiar way and his face could have been carved from stone it was so perfectly beautiful. A shiver ran down my spine as he touched my bare arm, regarding me with concern. His voice was melodic and his eyes were deep and full of so much of some indefinable glorious thing that warmed my entire body. Then it clicked. I knew who he was before he introduced himself. I recognized him now. I recognized him from all of the above, and then as I realized that, I recognized him from a familiar family photo. His introduction was just an unnecessary confirmation.

"Miss Swan, I'm Dr. Cullen." No not that Dr. Cullen. This was Dr. Cullen senior. Though you wouldn't be able to tell from his beauty that he was the father of three grown adults—who were all just as glorious as he was.

"Carlisle." I said. I didn't even realize I had said it aloud until he questioned me.

"Have we met?" He asked me politely. I shook my head.

"You're… Edward's father." I said, almost choking over the name. He nodded, seemingly pleasantly surprised by my knowledge.

"You know my son?" I nodded. I didn't elaborate and he sensed my hesitation and quickly moved onto professionalism. He explained that I had a mild concussion and that it would heal quickly, and said that my ribs would need more time to heal. Besides that, the rest were just cuts and bruises that would heal naturally. I was used to it. He questioned my history because of all the past injuries and fractures to my skull that he saw on my scans. I explained, truthfully, that I had been extremely accident prone since childhood, which accounted for every injury. He was skeptical, but didn't push me. For this most recent array of injuries, I explained that I was in an accident. I kept it simple until I could come up with something believable that I would stick to, and explain to Renee. Speaking of, I needed to get home and make sure Marcus was gone. He gave me a prescription for pain killers and braced my midsection to help my ribs heal better, and said to just go home. I didn't bother with the paperwork. I'd be getting a call from the hospital within the week. I knew the drill. I had visited hospitals often since childhood. And the personal's suspicion of abuse because of my many accidents had always been unjust—until now.

* * *

_A/N: Alright, you've all sold me. I just have to continue this. I'll see it through to the end, as long as your reviews keep me excited about it._

_Special thanks to everyone who reviewed, I love you. _


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

It had been a little over two weeks since my hospital visit. Marcus had been gone by the time I got home, and he hasn't shown his sorry ass since. I berated myself for my stupidity as I had cleaned up the mess of blood and broken glass in the entryway before Renee had come home. I told her I fell down the stairs and that's where I acquired my injuries. She believed me. She didn't have a reason not to believe me. My head injury had already healed nicely, and the stitches in my arm came out a few days ago. The array of light bruising still scattered over my body was going to take longer to completely fade, but they were much lighter than before, and turned from purple and black to a sickly shade of yellow. My ribs were still sore, and it hurt to move, but the pain was manageable, and much better with the pain killers. I tried not to take them that much, only when the pain is nearly unbearable, because they make me feel drugged and dazed, and my control slips when I'm on them, and it's harder to keep myself numbed like that.

Renee had let me know ahead of time that she would be returning to Phil in Cali in a few days from now. I was okay with that. It would be easier without her around, so that I don't have to constantly use up energy trying to keep a façade intact. My work at the library was slow and tedious, and rarely provided me with a decent distraction from time. But it was a job and something to do, and there was money in my bank account, so I kept going back. I took a pain pill last night to help me sleep—the pain had been keeping me awake at night. And my dreams were about _him_. On pain killers I can't seem to stop myself from thinking about him. I miss him. I really miss him. And the hole just keeps tearing even worse each time I allow myself to open that locked box in my head. I laid in bed that night, high as a kite from my pain killer, and stared at the ceiling as I thought about him. I hoped he was happy, even though it killed me to know it wasn't bothering him at all—being away from me. It wasn't the same for me, unfortunately. It was like going without much needed life support, being without him. I never really had him, but it felt like I did. And simply being near him was my life support. It was all I needed. And it was gone.

I was lying on my bed, my hands pressing masochistically against my stomach tentatively. I stared up at the ceiling, not really seeing it as my eyes were empty. My expression was blank. I heard Renee making noise downstairs as she lived her life—something that I couldn't even make myself _want_ to do. The doorbell rang and my heart involuntarily fluttered with panic and my breath caught in my throat. _I would stand my ground_. I thought gravely, already accepting my fate. That had become my mantra—I will stand my ground. It was the only thing my internal mind mantra would repeat to me. It would whisper it to me at night as I laid curled up on my bed alone, holding myself and fighting off the nightmares. It was my existence, it was my philosophy, and it was my world. That phrase and every little meaning behind it had become my new lifeline. It was the only truth I knew anymore. I heard muffled voices, and then one set of footsteps coming up the stairs. I forced myself to breathe as I sat up in bed, holding myself tightly as my muscles coiled in agony. I was on the brink of tears as my internal mantra whispered to me harshly. The door opened, and I prepared myself. My breath expelled violently as Edward appeared in the doorway, looking in at me with a pained expression and concern in his eyes. My eyes fell closed as my muscles relaxed and my panic was momentarily forgotten. Upon seeing my reaction, he unfroze in the doorway and rushed into the room, closing the door tightly behind him. I didn't notice I was shaking until his hands were on me, hugging me tightly to his chest. I held onto him desperately—my lifeline. As if I could just hold on tight enough, if I was strong enough, then he wouldn't disappear or fade. I knew I was going to be sorely disappointed, but for the time being, I just held on to my desperate delusions.

I didn't cry, and I was thankful for that. I was still too numb to cry. I just closed my eyes in relief and comfort, and pressed my face against the softness of his shirt, burrowing into his chest. My forehead was pressed to the curve of his neck and my hands were balled up in his shirt sleeves. He shushed me quietly, closing his eyes as he held me in his strong embrace. I took advantage of the small time and comfort I was given, and allowed myself to completely relax in his arms, feeling safe, warm, and protected. For once it felt like everything was going to be alright. That's why when he said that to me, whispered it into my hair, I was stupid enough to believe him—for the moment at least. Once I opened my eyes and allowed the world back into my safe haven, here wrapped in his arms, I would know the truth once again. Nothing was alright. Nothing would ever be all right.

"You have to report this." He told me solemnly, running his fingers delicately along my temple and down my cheek where I knew there was a fading bruise. I shook my head against him. "I'll go with you. But something has to be done about this. He could have killed you."

"I'm fine." I know how ridiculous that sounded, but it's like a reflex. Worry equals—assurance. It's all I know. What was I supposed to say? He laughed lightly at that, his chest rumbling under me. It was a humorless, bitter laugh. "I'm not going to the police." I told him firmly, still not opening my eyes as I lay against him.

"Why?" He demanded.

"What's the point?" It was a rhetorical question. He didn't take it that way. In fact, he got angry.

"The point…?! The point is that he _hurt_ you. And he's going to keep hurting you until he's stopped. If you aren't willing to stop him then I will!" He was getting himself all worked up, and his breathing was becoming heavier. His grip on me was strained, like he was having trouble being gentle. I smiled with my eyes closed at his protectiveness. It made the warmth in me intensify.

"You don't even know who he is. Just calm down… alright. It won't happen again. I'm never letting him into this house again." I told him firmly in a reassuring tone, trying to placate his anger. It didn't work.

"You _let_ him in?!" He exclaimed loudly. I scrunched my nose and furrowed my brow, turning my face into his chest to hide from him. I groaned into his shirt.

"Edward…" I pleaded quietly, trying to calm him. The gaping hole and tragic pain temporarily forgotten because of his presence. I felt content and relaxed sitting here with him, and really didn't want to talk about this. But if it was the only thing I could talk with him about, then so be it. He sighed in resignation, rubbing his hand in circles on my back as he stared out the bedroom window, trying to calm himself.

"Why are you here?" I asked in a small voice that was muffled by his chest.

"I was out to lunch with my parents earlier; my father mentioned your hospital visit." Of course, Carlisle—I had told him I knew Edward. It hadn't occurred to me that he would tell him about my injuries. Or maybe it occurred to my subconscious and that's why I told him… I don't know, because if that was the case, it was my subconscious. I didn't care though, because he was here, and that was all that mattered at the moment. I owe my subconscious a thank you. We sat there for awhile in silence—he was lost in thought, and I was trying to keep my thoughts silenced.

"I can't see you anymore Bella. I have to stay away from you." He voiced his thought without preamble. I sighed tiredly, reluctantly pulling away from him. I met his eyes with a blank look. Inside, the hole was threatening to reappear, but I kept my poker face, my shield, firmly in place. I knew this was coming.

"I heard that already, over a month ago. I don't need to hear this speech again." I said in a distressed, frustrated voice, scooting over until I reached the edge of the bed, and swung my feet to the floor. I kept my back turned towards him. "Is that why you came all the way over here? You just needed to stress your point even further… because I don't remember bothering you after the last time you told me to stay away." I was getting upset. Instead of allowing the misery to consume me, I turned to my anger to save me.

"That's not why I came…. I just needed to see that you were okay, that's all. I know it doesn't make sense. It was stupid of me to come at all. I'm sorry." I felt the bed shift as he stood up and moved towards the door.

"I'm glad you came." I admitted timidly, slowly looking over my shoulder to see him frozen with his hand on the door knob and his back towards me. "I just don't know what you want from me. I thought you made things clear last month, and now… here you are." We sighed miserably in unison with our backs turned towards each other. It was quite the metaphoric picturesque of irony.

"I just want you to be safe." He turned around slowly, leaning his back against the door and folding his arms across his chest. My hands gripped the edge of the bed to stop from crossing the room and reaching out to him. I wasn't allowed to do that. I couldn't touch him. It would be… _inappropriate_. Like I give a damn about propriety…

"I am safe."

"No… you're not. You're anything _but_ safe. And I know I need to stay away, but I need you to be safe. And I just don't know how to keep you safe _and_ stay away from you." Something very bitter snapped inside of me, inside of that massive, symbolic sphere of radiating pain consuming me when he said that.

"Yeah well, it's not your responsibility to take care of me. I can do that myself." I snapped bitterly at him, turning my head away.

"Whose responsibility is it then? Because you obviously can't take care of yourself…"

"What do you know about it? I've been taking care of myself my whole life. I was fine before you came along." I stood up from the bed, hugging myself tightly as I stood in front of the bedroom window with my back to him.

"Fine…?" He snapped incredulously in a low voice from behind me. "Fine…? You've been taking care of yourself your whole life, have you? Well, I can see how well that has turned out."

"Watch it." I bit back in a low warning voice, turning to glower at him over my shoulder. He was dangerously close to stepping over a line I would not allow him to cross. He had no right to comment on my life, not anymore. I was surviving fine without him. He's the one that gave me hope and then smashed it along with every piece of me that was still somewhat repairable.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said it like that." He apologized with a soft sigh, raking a hand through his hair raggedly. The gesture, combined with the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice melted away some of my anger, and caused me to throw away my careful guidelines and say what I truly wanted to say. I turned back towards him, still hugging my midsection tightly, and leaned against the windowsill behind me.

"Tell me why?" I began, but stopped in order to secure the strength in my voice, making sure it stayed steady and unwavering. I couldn't have my voice break while I was talking to him—that would be no good at all. He gave me a questioning look before I continued. "Tell me why you feel the need to stay away from me. If you want to keep me safe, for some reason, then you must feel something for me, no matter what it is. Why do you so desperately need to stay away from me? Is it because of the kiss? Because that wasn't—"

"Bella stop, please." He cut me off, avoiding my hard gaze. It had to be hard, if it wasn't hard, it would be soft, and softness leads to tears and tears leads to sobs and sobs leads to shattering. And shattering brings down all my meticulously placed shields. He stayed on his side of the room and I stayed on mine as I stared at him, willing him to say something, anything that would make me understand and ease the pain, while he avoided my gaze, looking anywhere but at me in shame.

"That… was a mistake—a horrible mistake. I shouldn't have done that to you, and I am so sorry."

"Shouldn't have done what… kissed me?" I asked skeptically. He simply nodded, repressing a cringe as he kept his gaze pinned to the floor, ashamed. I laughed humorlessly, and it came out dry and bitter. "Don't go damning your soul or whatever because of that. It takes two to make that kind of mistake, and I sure as hell wasn't a victim in that scenario. If anything it was I that took advantage of you." His gaze snapped up at that, and he stared at me like I had just claimed to be a vampire.

"You… took advantage… of me? How is that?" He exclaimed incredulously.

"I took advantage of your good heart, Edward. I made you feel empathy towards me and then I used that, and things spun out of control. I was staying in your home, spending all of my time with you, and I forced myself into this figurative stereotype that messed your head all up. I mean, here you were listening to my sob stories, knowing all of my issues and damages and you knew what I needed, what I didn't have. It was only because of how incredible you are that you felt affected by that and was pushed towards trying to give me what I needed, despite you knowing its not what you wanted." I finished my speech, the whole time keeping almost all emotion out of my voice and expression, and he stood there in shock, staring at me in disbelief. I couldn't tell whether I had just made his guilt worse or better. I had been trying to take his guilt away, it was unjust, but I don't think it worked. I most likely just screwed this all up even worse. My concern was validated when he guffawed at my speech before turning back to his guilt ridden remorse. He crossed the room, forgetting about his desired exit, and flopped down onto the bed with his head in his hands, shaking it miserably.

"It's worse than I thought." He mumbled to himself. His reaction made me realize, and see his perspective clearly for the first time. He really believes he's some kind of manipulating creep, doesn't he? He thinks he took advantage of an impressionable, vulnerable, broken girl and that he has me brainwashed or something. Geez, the nerve this guy has is incredible. How can he be so self-sacrificially, repentantly, obliviously misguided? It is self-centeredness, is what it is.

"You are such an ass." I muttered in disbelief petulantly, watching him wallow in self-deprecation on my bed from across the room. I had absolutely no commiseration for him. Here I was, completely screwed up and twisted, in unbearable pain whenever this dolt wasn't around, and he was too busy blaming himself for 'corrupting' me to notice. My self pity and misery was temporarily replaced with indignant annoyance.

"I know… wait, what?" I stared angrily at him as he sat back up on the bed and looked at me in confusion, forgetting his guilty pity party.

"Stop patronizing me, Edward, please." I barked irritably, rolling my eyes.

"I wasn't aware that I was patronizing you, Bella." He retorted evenly.

"Do you remember what I told you when we first met?"

"Um…"

"I said I wasn't a kicked puppy or some abused housewife. I'm not a victim. I'm not impressionable or dim-witted. I know what I feel, what I think, and what I believe. No one manipulated me, least of all you."

"I know you're not dim-witted or some constant victim, despite the fact that recent events might show otherwise. I mean, you're constantly getting hurt by someone. That is the essential definition of a victim. But I know you're not the stereotypical 'victim' or anything. I never meant to imply that." He conceded. I nodded, satisfied with his reply.

"And…?" I prodded. He wasn't finished yet. There was more to that statement.

"And what?"

"Edward, you did not manipulate me. Say it." I ordered sternly. He opened his mouth to argue, but I cut him off before he could. "No, I mean it. Don't go all psycho-analytical on me and blind yourself to reality. Just because something that is easily imaginable or common is similar to the situation does not mean that is all there is to it. You know me. Don't get distracted by the basic idea of it to make yourself forget that the circumstance is unique. You… did not… manipulate… me." I said it again slowly for him, trying to burn it into his consciousness and somehow make him believe it. I shrugged then, glancing away. "Besides, I was already damaged goods before you found me. How much worse do you really think I could it? There's not much more you can do to me." Oops, I really shouldn't have added that last part. I was just trying to lighten the mood, but as soon as I said it his head fell back down into his hands. I grimaced in his direction at his reaction. I couldn't even successfully make him feel better. God, I am such a worthless carcass. I would say I just take up space in this world, but it's not true… it's worse. I constantly mess things up. Okay, I needed to stop with the self-deprecation. I was just as bad as he was. Suddenly, his head snapped up and his thoughtfully conflicted gaze landed on me.

"Bella…" He started quietly. I waited warily for his words. "I think we've got some extremely mixed signals."

"What makes you say that?" He ignored my sarcastic tone and took the question at face value.

"I was just analyzing your words…" He ignored my exaggerated sigh and continued. "And some of the things you said just don't exactly make sense."

"I'm listening Dr. Cullen." I retorted, condescension clear in my tone when I called his name.

"Look, I have to explain myself. I have to make you understand before I go. I need to stay away from you Bella—if not for your sake, then for my own sanity." I hid the hurt look that threatened to cross my features. "But I can't have you thinking the wrong things. You didn't take advantage of me, Bella. If it were any other patient, I would have never allowed them to get that close, to cross that line from professional to personal. I knew I shouldn't have, but it was different with you. You were different to me. I wanted… no, I needed to help you. I feel… very… _protective_ of you—in the most extreme way. I've never felt like this before. You… are special—never let anyone tell you differently. That's why I need to go." He finished gravely, coming to his feet still facing me. My brow furrowed and my lips pursed unsatisfied.

"Now what a minute—all that does not explain why you're leaving." I claimed, pushing off from the windowsill and crossing the room until we were a foot apart.

"Bella, what happened last time, it was bad… very bad. And it can never happen again." He stressed, like I might argue with him.

"Okay." I agreed immediately without pause. It didn't need to happen again. The kiss was amazing, his touch is euphoric, but I'd settle for his presence over anything else. In fact, there was no settling, it just wasn't like that. I didn't need him to kiss me again. I just needed him to stay. And just like that—all my careful guarding and impassive expression and protective anger fled me through the hole that just reappeared in my chest as if it'd never left as he made his way to the door once again.

"Not simply—okay, Bella… I can't be around you. I can't control myself around you."

"Yes, you can. I know you can. I'll behave." I reasoned futilely—the most miniscule hint of desperation and pleading in my voice. I knew it was useless.

"It's not your fault. You shouldn't have to _behave,_ Bella. I just can't do this. You do realize that I could lose my practitioner's license for this, right? Hell, I could be arrested as well. And that's just the external reasons I shouldn't be around you. If you think about how badly I will be going to hell if this continues…" His voice died off as I watched forlornly, accepting his words. He sighed dejectedly, running a hand through his hair before his eyes found mine once again. His eyes bored into me like the sun. It felt as if the world was crashing down, and I couldn't bear the cross any longer. But looking into his eyes—for that fleeting moment, I believed with every fiber of my being that I was not lost. If I was… then we'd be lost together. And as instantaneously as that warmth enveloped me, it eluded my being with his afflicted retreat. I vacantly followed him out my bedroom door, and watched silently as he descended the stairs and ran from the house. As I watched his abandonment I was hit with clear understanding amid senseless chaos—an epiphany. Nothing made sense, but I knew more than I'd ever known anything else in my life, that my need for that man was existentially vital to me. I loved him. I was sure of it now. I was undeniably, inexplicably, and irrevocably in love with him.

* * *

_A/N: How was it so far? Should I keep posting? Make me believe... (note: this is not the end)_

_(This story is very meaningful to me, and deals with issues that are close to my heart. Sexual assault is a very serious topic, and one that I did not take on lightly. Bella's journey beginning from her breaking point and ending with her possible recovery is something very personal to me. Her thoughts and her issues are a very vital aspect of this story and it applies to most cases of this type of tragedy, though this was a unique reaction and recovery and her path is one that I felt appropriate for her to follow due to my own belief's and experiences. I want to thank you all for sticking with me through this story so far, and I am overjoyed that this story is possibly able to interest you. If it is able to affect a single one of you emotionally and stimulate a consideration for this topic then I will consider myself a success. Though I did not have an Edward to come rescue me, I assure you you will be satisfied with the conclusion of Bella's story.)_


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

_I loved him. I was sure of it now. I was undeniably, inexplicably, and irrevocably in love with him. _

I was still sure of it. And the pain was still present, along with the hole of missing pieces inside me that I just couldn't figure out. Three days—since he'd paid me that little visit and made everything excruciatingly clear. Twenty minutes after he'd left me there at the top of the stairs my cell vibrated and the ringtone set to _'I'll be'_ reached my ears. Turns out, he was in such a rush to get away from me that he'd forgotten to settle his internal issue—the reason he had paid me that visit in the first place. What to do about my abuser? I placated him enough to agree to a simple plan of precaution. He would text me once a day, every day, and if I did not reply to it within an hour he would know something was wrong. That was a suitable course of action for him. Texting wouldn't inhibit his personal plan to keep his distance, and his mind would be at ease, assured that I was safe. I went along with it because it would give him peace of mind, and despite that I was in some excruciating hell, I still wanted this man to be at peace. He deserved it. I've decided, if this is all there is to love, then I never wanted it. I spent my life believing that was all I wanted, and now I just wish Aphrodite would take it back. And get this—apparently the texting wasn't even enough. The man had a flare for stalking. But since he was determined to keep his distance, he had to bid others to do his stalking for him. That's how I finally met Alice.

The day before Renee was planning to leave, and I was still in an inconsolable state. I repeatedly assured her that I would be fine, and she left it at that. We were eating breakfast together in silence, and from the way she kept fidgeting in her seat, I knew there was something she wanted to say. I pushed the eggs around the plate vacantly with my fork as she stared at me and I kept my head down.

"Bells, can we talk?" Finally, she broke the silence. It sure took her long enough. I let my fork fall to the plate with a quiet clatter, and looked up at her expectantly.

"What's bothering you?" I asked her dully.

"That man that was here the other day…" I suppressed a shudder that climbed up my spine. My jaw clenched as I nodded for her to continue. "He's the guy, right? The guy you've been mourning." I inhaled deeply, noticing the scent of cappuccino wafting from the scented candle centered on the table. It was a good distraction.

"Yeah, that was him. Edward…"

"Edward… well, I can certainly see why you fell so hard. Um… how old…. Exactly… is he, I mean?" She stammered out hesitantly, scrunching her shoulders up.

"He's 27, mom." She choked before the sip of coffee she was preparing for even reached her mouth. I looked back down at my plate impassively.

"27… wow… and… well, wow. So you two… never…"

"No."

"Oh, well, at least he's a gentleman. Well, I mean, he seemed gentlemanly, I don't know. I only spoke to him for a minute. But it seemed like… I mean he appeared to be a good guy. He wasn't creepy at all. So that's good. But Bells… 27—that's a big difference."

"Don't go there mom—Phil's half your age." I stood up from the table with my untouched plate of food and dropped it in the sink with my back to her. I really didn't want to talk about this.

"But… alright, no, you're right, Bells. You're right. Age is just a number. It doesn't matter when love is involved." Well, at least she supported me.

"I never liked math anyways." I mumbled to myself under my breath, gripping the edge of the sink as I stared out the kitchen window. I heard her chair scrap across the floor as she stood up too.

"So what's keeping you apart then honey?" Ah, and the million dollar question that I really didn't want to think about right now… or ever.

"He's my doctor." I admitted to her bluntly. I didn't need to specify what type of doctor exactly—she'd get the picture without having to know I was seeing a shrink. I didn't mention the other problem in between us—that I was damaged goods.

"Oh… yeah well that could cause a problem. But he does feel the same way, doesn't he? Because I thought you said he didn't, but it didn't look that way to me the other day." Again with the questions I was hoping to be able to ignore. Why couldn't I just ignore it?

"I thought I told you the truth. But now, I just don't know. But it doesn't matter anyway. It's over—not that there was ever anything to begin with. But there's no sense in thinking about it now. It's in the past." Lie. But I need my denial, so leave me be.

"You're right. It's probably for the best anyway. You'll be okay, Bella. You're strong. You'll make it through this. You always do." She consoled me, placing a motherly touch to my shoulder and leaning her chin on the other one. If she only knew how wrong she was. But she couldn't. She was safer in her ignorance—happier. She deserved to be happy. But, don't I deserve to be happy too—a little voice in the back of my mind asked me. I silenced it immediately. It would do me no good to wallow in self-pity. I nodded, turning to give her a reassuring hug before starting on washing the dishes. Renee went up to her room to finish packing. When I finished the kitchen, I retired to the arm chair by the window in the living room with my book. After awhile, I decided to move my reading out to the swing on the front porch and get some much needed warmth from the sun. I tugged off my long sleeve shirt, leaving me in just my undershirt—a white tank top that barely covered my midriff. I called it a boy-beater, because it looked exactly like a man's wife-beater.

I propped my legs up on the swing and turned back to my book, but something in the corner of my eye kept drawing my attention. A stunningly stark yellow Porsche was parked across the street from my house. It was shiny and reflecting in the sun, and had tinted windows that added mystery and a black racing stripe down the center. I had never seen it in the neighborhood before, and my spidey senses were tingling. I tried to shake the feeling off and return to my book, but I couldn't make myself concentrate. Goosebumps appeared along my arms as I caught sight of motion inside the car, behind those tinted windows. I forcibly returned my gaze to the book, but my attention was still solely focused on the mystery visitor. After about ten minutes, I got up from the swing, stretching casually before going back inside the house. I avoided the windows and quickly found my stun gun in the messenger bag hanging over a chair in the kitchen. I slipped out the back door, and rounded the house, jumping over the neighbor's fence. And yes, I caught my foot on the top and fell over the other side, landing un-stealthily on my ass. I recovered quickly though, and crossed the street at a safe distance until I could sneak up to the driver's side of the mystery Porsche and tap on the window, taking whoever was inside by surprise. After a few moments of nothing, as the driver most likely considered what to do next, the window rolled down. I was greeted by the sight of a perky, daintily tiny brunette with too cheerful a smile and bright eyes that matched the shininess of her car.

"Hi!" She greeted me with shocking exuberance, and I immediately recognized that pixie voice with the child-like excitement to it. I took another moment to take in her face more closely this time, and remembered her from the family portrait by Edward's bed.

"Alice, right?" I asked, raising a skeptical brow. What the hell was Edward's sister doing parked in front of my house. She nodded vehemently, smiling joyfully at me. She was apparently, extremely happy that I had recognized her.

"Bella! I would know you anywhere. You're exactly as I pictured you… except you're even prettier than I thought you'd be. And your hair…!" She gushed proudly, taking a piece of my wavy curled locks in her dainty hand. Her long, slender fingers were covered in a wild assortment of silver gemstone rings. "Edward said you had chocolate locks that matched your eyes, but wow. I didn't think… you have beautiful hair." She sounded surprised. I found it strange, but really, what about this first encounter wasn't strange? The girl was freaky, in an amusing, likable way.

"It's nice to finally officially meet you, Alice." I told her calmly, smiling warmly at the girl. I don't know why I thought of her as a girl—she was obviously older than me. But she seemed so… child-like. It was most likely just her excitement, because I could tell there was no naivety under her extreme optimism. "Now, do you want to tell me why you're sitting in your car, parked outside my house? Or how you even know where I live to begin with? Not that it isn't good to see you, but when there are stalkers watching your house, you tend to get nervous. Were you trying to freak me out?" I asked, leaning my elbows on the windowsill of her car so we were eye level.

"Oh god, you didn't call the police did you?" She questioned, frantically searching the roads for any sign or sirens. I laughed, shaking my head in denial. "Um, well, you see it's pretty simple actually. I'm keeping an eye on you. You see, Edward told me where you lived, and suggested I come see you. He said you could probably use a friend, and since I knew right from the start of all this that you and me would eventually be best friends; I knew it was time we meet." She explained bubbly, bouncing lightly in her seat restlessly. Her long fingers danced along the leather steering wheel as she tapped it rhythmically while staring at me with big blue eyes. The topaz tint to her beautiful eyes accentuated the deep brown of her hair, which had a pixie cut and was spiked in all directions. Her hair had just as much personality as she did. And in the sunlight, I could see a tint of reddish-brown close to her brother's bronze in its shading.

"So um, I figured we could hang out today. I don't have any classes, and I already told Jazz that I would be spending the day with my future sister, so he and Emmett are off occupying themselves this weekend." She looked up at me, her eyes brimming with mischief and hope, waiting for my answer. She seemed absolutely sure that I would go along with whatever it was she wanted. Her words rang out in my head incredulously. _'Future sister?' _That seemed like a ridiculous thing to say, or think. And Edward wanted her to spend time with me? Edward didn't want me to be alone, and since he couldn't be there as my only friend, he sent his baby sister as a replacement? That seems like something Edward would do. I was tempted to politely send her away, but I just couldn't make myself disappoint her. She seemed so worry-less and happy. I didn't know why, but I just didn't want to make her spirit fall. I didn't want her to lose that unshakable happiness that radiated from her. It almost warmed my coldness as well as Edward always did. I found myself wanting to stay close to her. I told myself it was because she was Edward's sister, and anything that was a part of Edward was something I wanted. But as I nodded and ushered her out of the car and into the house, I realized that it was slightly more than that. I was strangely drawn to this perky pixie. It was a fraction of the pulling feeling I have in regards to her brother.

"Wait… Jazz?" I questioned, puzzled by her words as I led her into the living room.

"Jasper—my husband, you can call him Jasper, or Jazz, or Jazzy… well, he hates it when I call him Jazzy, but that never stops me." She informed me laughingly as I took a seat on the sofa and she plopped down right beside me instead of taking the arm chair I'd offered her. She rested her elbow on the back of the couch as she turned her torso towards me, smiling. "Would you like me to tell you more about our family?" She asked with a knowing twinkle in her topaz eyes. I nodded, slouching down in the sofa until I was lounging back, listening to her gush about Edward and his family.

"Well, first off, there's our parents—Carlisle and Esme Cullen. Carlisle is an attending at the local hospital and mo—Esme is sort of a housewife. Well, she's much more than that. She started flipping houses as a hobby, but it turned into a very lucrative business. They've been happily married since they were in high school. They had Emmett, my oldest brother, like a week after their high school graduation. Then a few years later came Edward, while they were in college. I was born while Dad was still in med school. Now, Emmett is a boxer, and he's married to Rosalie, who is a mechanical engineer. I'll tell you how they met, it's incredibly romantic—like something out of a romance novel. Rosalie was having a fight with her abusive fiancé, who had dragged her out to a boxing match that night. Afterwards, they fought and she ran away from him. Well, she saw a group of guys in a back alley near the rink, and she scared them away. They had attacked my brother, and almost killed him. He, like a complete moron, bet a lot and his loan shark was unhappy with him. Anyway, Rosalie got him to the hospital in time and saved his life. She stayed by his bedside until he woke up, and they fell in love. They got married a year later, and are going on almost nine years of marriage now. Rosie isn't the nicest person in the world, but she has a good heart deep down… very, very deep down." Alice took a moment to laugh at that. I chuckled along with her. I'd heard stories from Edward about Rosalie, so I knew what she meant.

"Edward has been flying solo pretty much his whole life. He's had girls come and go, through high school, college, everything like that, but nobody ever stuck around for more than a month tops. It never got serious. He's the only one in the family that hasn't been paired off yet. We all were lucky. We found our soulmates pretty early on in life. Edward has never even found someone he liked, never mind loved. That's why I'm so excited. He's finally… well, anyway… he just has to get over this brooding melancholy thing and see what really matters. He'll get his priorities in line and it will all work out, you'll see." Her words came out so quickly, it was hard for me to keep up. But she paused, giving me a moment to realize I was crying. I didn't even feel the wetness against my cheeks until now. God, what has this girl done to me? She smiled at me lovingly, and her expression got dreamy and excited once again. She patted the back of my hand as she continued, moving on from the topic, and I was grateful. She seemed to know exactly what I needed.

"And then there's me. I met my Jasper when I was 16. He and Edward were roommates in college and I had the hugest crush on him. I knew we would be together for the rest of our lives, even though at the time, he didn't even notice me. He was a lot older than me, and when I told my mom and dad about my feelings, they were very understanding. So all I had to do was get Jasper's attention. It took awhile. First I got close and made him be my friend. Then, after years of waiting, I got drunk at my high school graduation party, and told him I was in love with him." She stopped, staring at me knowingly with a dreamy look in her eyes. Her voice was soft and loving, and I didn't need to meet Jasper to see how badly she loved him. I was staring intently at her, waiting for her to continue. I actually found myself wanting her to finish. When she didn't, I lightly poked her in the ribs with my elbow, prodding her on.

"And…?" She giggled before acquiescing.

"And… he was shell-shocked. He stood there staring at me like a deer caught in headlights. When he finally got over his shock, a smile small stretched his lips… oh he has amazing lips." She murmured to herself, staring off into space as she let her fingertips linger lightly on her lips. "He leaned in to kiss me, but paused right before our lips met… and then I barfed on his shoes. That's pretty much all I remember of the night. But I woke up in the morning and he was still there. We talked, and we finally got that kiss—after I brushed my teeth of course. Less than a month later I asked him to marry me."

"_You_ asked _him_ to _marry_ you… and after only a month of dating?" I asked, astonished. I found myself smiling uncontrollably at her story. She nodded her head eagerly.

"I had waited almost three years, Bella. Once I had finally had him, I didn't want to wait any longer. He said yes… and we married two months later, much to Edward's chagrin. He didn't like the idea of his best friend and his baby sister. Emmett, who was the one I was really worried about, seemed ecstatic about the union. He was like a big kid at Christmas. We honeymooned in Kobo. And here we are… still happy—just like mom and dad, and Em and Rose." She was staring at the powerless TV screen in a daze with a goofy smile on her face. Then suddenly she changed, turning towards me in seriousness.

"But the family is uneven Bella. We're not complete yet." Her lips quirked in an imperceptibly sly smile and her eyes glittered with certainty. "But you'll fix that." She stated matter-of-factly. Her tone left no room for doubt, and it just made me stare in wonderment. This pixie was most definitely the strangest person I had ever met. I found myself loving her.

We sat and talked for awhile longer, and by the time we came up for air, it was dark outside. Alice pulled something out of her large purse and held it up in front of my face proudly, displaying it for me. I pulled her hand down, taking the DVD case from her hands.

"_Bringing up baby_?" I questioned. She nodded happily with her chin pointed up. She was proud of herself.

"Edward said you love old black & white comedies. This is one of the funniest I've seen. I knew you'd love it, if you don't already. Besides, Cary Grant is sexy as a geeky scientist." She said, scooting backwards on the sofa and pulling a pillow onto her lap. She made herself comfortable, and made it clear she wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon.

"Yes, it is one of my favorites of his movies." I said quietly, setting up the DVD player. I kept my back to her as I hid a small smile. Edward had told her what kind of movies I liked? Renee came out of her room again and stopped me in the kitchen as I was making dinner, which Alice was apparently staying for seeing as she ordered me to make some food for us to eat before we started the movie. Renee reminded me that she would be leaving for California tomorrow afternoon, and was inwardly ecstatic when I introduced her to Alice. Well, Alice actually introduced herself really.

"Hello! I'm Alice Cullen, Bella's best friend." She'd told Renee bravely, snapping her hand out in front of her and shaking Renee's vehemently. She was definitely not timid. Renee went to bed to read a book as Alice and I snuggled into the sofa in the darkened living room and started the movie. By the time I fell asleep that night—with Alice's head resting on my stomach as we were sprawled out on the floor—I realized that she had been right. She was my best friend. I had also decided that I would be referring to her as _Tink_ from now on. She just reminded me so much of _Tinkerbelle_. She fell asleep beside me that night, not willing to leave—not that I had asked her to. I didn't mind her sticking around longer. She distracted me from Edward's absence. It was still painfully noticeable, but it wasn't as hard to deal with when Alice was at my side. This was the start of a beautiful friendship. I could feel it.

* * *

_A/N: Finally some Bella/Alice interaction. So how did I do? _

_I promise, next chapter will make Edward's absence worthwhile, let me know if you still want more._


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

I woke up feeling strangely at ease. Usually, I wake feeling groggy, depressed, and weighed down. But I was feeling unexpectedly content this morning. A small smile played on my lips as I stretched. The smile disappeared, replaced by a frown as I felt the ache in my muscles. My neck cramped badly, and my ribs were throbbing lightly. My legs were stiff, as were my arms. Then I realized why. I was plastered on the living room floor atop an old comforter, with a little pixie snoring practically on top of me. The previous day came back to me, and suddenly the ache in my muscles wasn't enough to drag down my eased spirits. I craned my neck up off the floor to peer down at my stomach, where a heavy head of mahogany hair splayed out against the whiteness of my boy-beater. Her cheek was pressed against my ribs uncomfortably, due to the fact that they were still extremely sore, and her arm was flung over me in a half-hug. Her tiny toned leg was twisted with both my own. We were completely tangled and I was protecting her from the majority of the floor's hardness. I bet she did that on purpose.

It was strange, this easiness that spread through me. Usually, I needed my space, and really didn't like people near me, or touching me, and especially not while I sleep. Sleeping is precious to me—it's the time when I'm at my most helpless and unguarded. But I didn't have the urge to push her away. I liked her closeness. She was just so warm and lovable, that you couldn't help but enjoy her affection. It was a very nice feeling, and I didn't want it to stop. Unfortunately, my muscles were complaining and my ribs were screaming at me, so I had to move. I gently rolled Tink over onto the floor beside me, waiting a moment to make sure she didn't wake up. She flinched slightly, crinkling her nose up cutely as if it itched, then threw her head to the side and continued her soft snoring. I laughed quietly to myself, propped up on my elbows, and stared adoringly at her for a moment before snapping out of it. I shook my head at my own ridiculousness and rolled onto my stomach so I could force myself onto my hands and knees. I was having a hard time making my stiff body do what I wanted it to. I made it to my feet and stumbled out of the living room, making sure my clumsiness didn't get little Tink stepped on.

I used the first floor bathroom, and brushed my teeth to get the fuzzy feeling out of my mouth, and washed my face to clear out the grogginess of sleep. I pulled my tangled, bed-head hair into a messy bun, and tucked the stray strands behind my ears to get them out of my face before heading towards the kitchen. The over-large, flannel, dark plaid pajama pants I was wearing billowed out around my legs as I moved and hung low on my hips. They were my favorite pair of pants. I'd rather my PJ pants and tank top over anything else any day. If I didn't need to leave the house, they were all I would wear. In fact, the only girly apparel I give into is my underwear. My undergarments are a guilty pleasure of mine. I love beautiful underwear that are comfortable and make me feel pretty underneath. Renee loves buying me lingerie from Victoria's Secret every time she goes for herself. I don't encourage her, but I still wear them. It's like my one guilty pleasure—that and chocolate. Speaking of, I still haven't gotten that chocolate cake I've been craving. I'll have to make some, and actually eat it this time.

I brewed a pot of coffee for the household and sat down at the table with a heated cinnamon roll while I waited for it to finish. My stomach was grumbling loudly at me, insisting I feed it. The roll was warm, sticky, and sweet, and was just the comfort I had been subconsciously seeking. I put a few more in the oven to heat for Alice and Renee. I washed the dishes from last night that went forgotten, and then sat down with a mug of coffee as Renee emerged from her bedroom—showered, dressed, and made-up. She smiled an overly bright smile that for once I didn't mind, and poured her self coffee. She took note of Tink sprawled out on the floor of our living room with a pleased smile. She was obviously glad I had a friend. She'd been worrying about that since we moved. Hopefully this would placate her worry for long enough.

"So, have you known Alice for long?" She asked, taking a seat opposite me at the table. I shook my head, sipping the steaming coffee.

"Not long." I replied evasively, occupying my mouth with another sip. I didn't want her to know that we'd just met yesterday. It would only lead to more questions I didn't want to be reminded of right now. "Do you need me to drive you to the airport this afternoon?"

"No, I'm taking a cab. I want you to relax the rest of this weekend, honey. You're always so stressed. You need some down time." We sat in silence after that while we drank our coffee, listening to the birds chirp and all the sunshine-stuff. Alice groaned from the living room as she was awakened by her cell ringing in her purse. She disappeared into the bathroom while she listened to her husband complain about her big brother's antics on their weekend trip to the Everglades. She joined us in the kitchen, laughing as she recounted her phone call. Jasper was not enjoying his trip with Emmett to say the least. He had begged her to allow them to return early, because apparently, Alice was the boss. She refused coffee, going instead for a glass of orange juice with her cinnamon roll. After breakfast, Alice left to go home and work on her term-paper and I neatened up the living room. It was still a total mess from last night.

I was in an unusually decent mood as I returned to the kitchen to join Renee for lunch. That warmth had receded with Alice's departure, but I was still feeling contented from her visit. She had left me feeling marginally better. We had just finished our sandwiches when Renee started talking about her last weekend with Phil and their trip to the San Diego zoo. I was staring down at my empty plate as I tried to hear her words. The tone of her voice suggested the topic was coming to an end as I got up from my seat with my plate.

"Oh Bells, you'll never guess who I heard from." She told me excitably from the table. I had my back turned as I stood in front of the sink with the plate still in my hand. I was staring out the kitchen window, thinking about somebody I shouldn't be, when she continued… and shattered my ease. "Jess called me. Can you believe it? I haven't heard from him in… what's it been… almost a year—since we left Phoenix." The rest of her words were just static to my ear as the coldness returned stronger than it had ever been before. Suddenly, the missing pieces, the numbness—the hole in me wasn't a vacant void anymore. Instead, it was a shattered shield, leaving jagged pieces of its destruction throbbing through me abhorrently. The plate in my hand slipped from my vigor-less grasp as lethargy seemed to overtake my senses in a defense mechanism—stopping my body from destroying itself. The abrupt shattering of the china as it collided with the linoleum floor sent a wave of shock through me, surfacing me, and interrupting my slow drown as the ruined pieces of the broken plate splayed out around my bare feet. Renee flinched at the slip, and scurried over in a rush as she cooed concern at me. She kneeled down in front of me, hurrying to clean up the mess as she admonished my clumsiness. Her words were thick and didn't register in my brain as I dully watched her. Suddenly, I snapped, and the lethargy was replaced with manically racing thoughts and breathing patterns and heartbeat.

"Mom!" I shouted to get her attention louder than necessary. She looked up at me, startled by my abrupt outburst. "Mom," I began, forcing my voice to sound calmer and less frantic. "What did Jess want?" I asked warily, my tone and expression urgent as I clutched the edge of the sink from behind until my knuckles screamed in pain.

"Um, he just wanted to check in, say hello. That's all. It had been so long since we'd seen each other. We haven't talked to Jess in ages. And a shame—you two were so close. I'm sorry, sweetie. I would have let you talk to him, but you were out like a light because of those pain killers. I didn't want to disturb you. I gave him the house phone number though, so I'm sure you'll get another chance to speak with him." Her words drifted in and out of my consciousness wearily as I swayed on my feet weakly. My knees threatened to give out. I had to escape… before something happened in front of her. I nodded frantically, crouching down in front of her, grasping her bustling hands, stilling their actions.

"It's alright, mom, it's alright. Please, leave this, I'll clean up. Go finish packing."

"Are you sure?" She asked, looking at me with concern and pity in her soft eyes.

"I'm sure." I croaked, nodding as I managed a half of a reassuring smile. She dropped the shards of china and left the kitchen, knowing I needed to be alone.

"Oh please god." I murmured reverently as I struggled to intake shaky, broken breaths. My hands shook violently as I kneeled on the cold, hard floor, gathering the broken pieces and dumping them into the plastic trash bin. I swept over the spot with the broom, all the while desperately forcing calm over myself and biting my lip to stop its trembling. There was nothing I could do for my shaking hands. My knees wobbled as I trudged up the stairs one small step at a time, pacing myself. I made it to the upstairs bathroom—my bedroom was too far away. I fell heavily against the door as it slammed closed. My legs gave out and I slid to the floor against the bathroom door, reaching over my head to fumble with the doorknob blindly until I felt the lock pushed into place. It was pitch black without the light. There was no window in the upstairs bathroom. I banged my head against the door as I turned towards the ceiling, inhaling strained breaths through my nose with my eyes closed. My head was pounding and my heart raced painfully in my chest. Shortness of breath plagued me, making me feel as if I were suffocating. It was the most unbearable thing I had ever felt—not being able to catch my breath. It wasn't more painful than some of my other injuries, but it was the most unbearable. Nausea sunk in abruptly, causing me to launch myself across the hard floor towards the porcelain bowl as my stomach jumped up my throat. I hung my head in the toilet as I gagged painfully, emptying all the contents of my stomach into the bowl. I continued gagging until I was just dry-heaving. Tears streamed down my face, mixing with my vomit as I sobbed and gagged at once. My fingers bit into the porcelain painfully and my hair stuck to my face. My whole body was shaking violently.

The taste in my mouth was repulsive, and it triggered a crawling sensation through the rest of my body. Suddenly, I couldn't stand my own skin. It felt gritty, abhorrent, and dirty. I crawled across the floor, dragging myself up to my feet and switching on the bathroom light. I doubled over onto the vanity and scrambled for my toothbrush. I washed my mouth out and scrubbed my teeth until my gums bled. It still wasn't satisfying. I was still dirty. I dropped the brush, letting it clank loudly into the porcelain sink as the water continued running heavily through the pipes into the sink. My hand cradled the sink as I leaned my head up, catching my reflection in the mirror. I cringed away from it, closing my eyes as the tears continued at a violent speed. I pushed away from the sink, and started desperately tugging my clothes off as fast as I could. Once I was completely nude, I moved towards the shower. I turned on the faucet, and waited for the temperature to turn scalding. As I waited, I caught my reflection again in one of the full length mirrors. I didn't cringe away this time, but instead moved closer. I stood, bare and exposed before the large mirror. My eyes dragged over my reflection's entirety slowly, frowning at what I saw. I was so… so… so disgusting. I couldn't stand to look at myself any longer. My fists rose suddenly, and before I realized what I was doing, I had smashed the mirror into shattered pieces, completely destroying it. I stood there in front of the empty frame, staring down at my feet vacantly where the jagged shards lay. Blood slowly dripped from the edge of my hand down onto the broken pieces, contrasting glaringly. With a heavy exhalation, all the franticness left my body, and everything slowed. I deadened as the insensateness took over once again, and I dully climbed into the steaming shower, letting the painful pressure of the stream pound against my sensitive skin and soak me in absolution. The boiling water smoothed over my skin, washing away the blood and dirt and grime and every disgusting thing that had ever happened to it.

My palms pressed flat against the tiled wall as I tilted up towards the sprayer, humming a familiar composition to myself torpidly. I was anesthetized, and I held onto that feeling, tightly securing it around myself until I felt nothing—until I was desensitized. I climbed out of the shower, wrapping myself in a towel before taking a seat on the floor against the wall opposite the vanity. I dried my hair with another towel, and bandaged the cut on my hand. I sat there a long while, staring into nothingness before I moved over to stand in front of the vanity mirror. After a long moment's deliberation, I got to work cleaning up the broken mirror. Once I was finished, I took out Renee's beauty supplies from under the sink and began using the curling iron on my hair. I sat there on the floor with my back pressed to the wall, and curled my hair. I didn't bother with a mirror, just curled. Some locks were curled in small spirals and others in wide curls, turning it into a dark mane of chaotic curls. I liked it. Once I was done, I moved on, grabbing a bottle of her midnight blue nail polish, and painted my fingernails after cutting them down as short as possible. Afterwards, I applied dark eye shadow and eyeliner, and rubbed cherry chapstick over my dry lips. I put everything away and went to my room. I searched through the box in the back of my closet, and pulled out what I was looking for. I dropped the towel on the floor, and pulled on last year's Christmas gift—a matching lingerie set of black lace. I found the little black dress that I had never worn and pulled it on. I stood in front of my mirror and stared. The dress hugged me tightly, and dipped low to reveal cleavage and ended high to reveal lots of thigh. It was a gift from Renee for my 16th birthday. I had never had the desire to wear it. But I stood staring at myself as I tried to see beauty. Maybe that was what all this was for—the sexy clothes and make-up; all these things that women care so much about. Maybe they are disguises, methods of hiding what's underneath. I didn't understand it, but the clothes and the make-up and my hair, it all made me feel good, very good.

I heard Renee call me from the bottom of the stairs, and I quickly swallowed a pain pill before leaving my room. My ribs were starting to seriously bother me again. She was standing by the door with her bags. I made it to the last few steps on the stairs and sat down, leaning my weight on the railing for support. She looked up at me with a surprised, awed expression, and she lit up joyously. I smiled softly at her.

"Baby, you look gorgeous. You got a hot date or something?" She asked in a teasing tone. I shook my head.

"Just… felt like being beautiful." I admitted quietly, letting my gaze fall.

"Sweetie, you're always beautiful. But mission accomplished—now you're a total hottie. Anyways, I have to go or I'll be late for my flight." She crossed the foyer, hugging me briefly before moving towards the door. She called out to me, telling me she loved me as she made it to the yellow cab waiting in front of our house. I told her I loved her and to be safe, and watched as the cab drove away. I returned to the house, sitting back down on the stairs, hugging my knees to my chest. I don't know how long I sat there at the bottom of the stairs, staring into nothingness, but by the time I was aware of anything, it was twilight. My cell vibrated, alerting me to a new message. I flipped open the phone to find Edward's annual nightly text message.

_R U OK?_

It was always the same thing. I sent my annual reply of yes and turned off my phone. I didn't want any more disturbances. I returned to my room, and tried to lay down on the bed and sleep, but I was restless, not tired. The message kept returning to my thoughts. I needed more than an assurance of survival. I needed him. Why does everything always have to be so hard? I need him, and it seemed that he wasn't repulsed by the thought of that kiss, so he can't _not_ feel somewhat of the same as I do—obviously not exactly the same. I was madly in love with the man, and was so dependent on his presence to keep me feeling alive it was absurd. That should be all there was to it. I wanted him, he didn't _not_ want me… it should be that simple. Why can't it be?

_Because he told you to stay away…_

I ignored my mind's warning and hopped off the bed, quickly dragging the slutty dress over my head and replacing it with a pair of comfortable jeans and a soft, black sweater that was thrown atop a pile of clothes in the corner. The top left a sliver of skin exposed between the material and the top of my jeans, but I didn't care. I grabbed my keys and raced to my car, forgetting to lock the door or grab my bag. And then I did something incredibly stupid. I drove across town, speeding no less, while still under the affects of pain killers. It was probably the stupidest thing I had ever done—well, it was close anyways. This next thing I was planning on could top everything. I shut my mind off, blocking out any logical thought process as I jumped out of the car and raced into his building. I took the stairs two at a time until I skidded to a stop in front of the door to his loft, out of breath from my rush. My hand rose and my fist froze in front of the door, preparing to knock.

* * *

_A/N: So, what do you have to say about that?_


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

_My hand rose and my fist froze in front of the door, preparing to knock._

I exhaled loudly, bracing myself… and then I knocked on his door. I rested my hand on the doorjamb as I used the other to tuck my hair behind my ear—it was still tangled in unruly curls. I wrapped my arm around my midsection, holding myself as I waited. I heard him in the loft, shuffling towards the door. The music that had been playing silenced and I listened as his footsteps reached the entryway. Then the door swung open and my eyes glazed over. He was standing in the doorway, in an old pair of jeans and a ragged grey t-shirt. His bronze hair was mussed, like he'd been lying down. His eyes were dark and wide as they traveled over me slowly. His lips—his perfect, soft, livid pink lips parted slightly in surprise. My fingers curled with the urge to touch him. It was an uphill battle, but I somehow managed to stay where I was. Until…

"Bella…" He breathed out wearily. The soft melodic voice caressed my senses as his eyes found mine. I lost the battle. It was overwhelming, and I was literally suffocating with the desire to touch him. Desire surged through me stronger than anything I'd ever felt before, tingling from my core outstretching to my fingertips. My control went out the window and seeing as that was the only thing keeping me still, I launched myself forward suddenly, throwing myself at him quite literally. If I had been in the right state of mind I would have been mortified by my actions. But I wasn't, so I just threw myself forward, crashing into him roughly and pressing my lips to his. I gripped the back of his neck, pulling him forward as I arched into him. The next thing I knew, I was being dragged further into the entryway and shoved backwards until my back was pressed firmly against the—now closed—door. Edward's hand tangled in my hair, tilting my head as he deepened the kiss, running his warm tongue along the seam of my lips, begging permission. I welcomed him thoroughly as his other hand gripped my waist. I moaned into his mouth and rubbed myself against him. I wasn't in control of myself. My body was running on pure instinct and my mind was completely incoherent. He tasted like hot cinnamon, smelled like warm vanilla, and felt like heaven—or hell.

"Bella…" He breathed out against my lips, making my name sound like a prayer. His hands skimmed over my flesh, making me shudder with desire at his tantalizing touch. His lips caressed my throat as my head fell back in pleasure, moaning against him, and panting for air. My hands tangled in his hair and clutched at his shoulder. His hand smoothed over the sensitive skin of my stomach, sliding under the heavy material of my sweater, and slid around my waist to caress the small of my back, dragging the sweater up further. My hands trembled against him as my body quivered. He found my lips again and moved languidly against me, tasting and caressing every part of my mouth. He gently bit my bottom lip before pulling away. I hid my face in the curve of his neck as he burrowed into the waves of my chestnut hair, inhaling pleasantly as he held me against him in a tight embrace. I shut my eyes, basking in the perfectness that spread through me in his arms. Nothing else mattered when he held me.

"Edward…" I whispered to myself against his skin involuntarily. He took my face in his hands and rubbed his thumb over my lips, staring at me silently with heated intensity. Then it happened. His thumb rubbed over wetness on my cheek, from just one stray tear. I don't know why I was crying—I hadn't even noticed it. Something in his eyes shifted as he wiped my tear away. He pulled away desperately, and I let my hands fall limply at my sides as he rushed across the room, away from me, and took a seat on the sofa, holding his head down in his hands.

"What's wrong?" I asked in a meek voice, still flustered as I leaned my back against the door, touching my fingertips to my swollen lips.

"What's wrong?! Are you kidding me?" He croaked out incredulously in a thick, raspy voice. He looked up, begging me with his eyes to run away. I shook my head in desperate denial. I pushed away from the door, still breathing heavily, and started towards him slowly.

"I want this Edward. I want you." I told him in a low voice thick with desire. He shook his head, looking down again. "I've never let anyone touch me before. I've never wanted anyone before." I told him, moving closer and closer. My gaze never left him. My hand rubbed over my stomach as ever cell in me yearned to touch him. I licked my lips, rounding the sofa until I was right in front of him, and dropped to my knees between his legs. My hands planted on his knees as I moved closer.

"Bella, this is wrong." He said, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than me. I shook my head, taking his hand and placing it under my sweater again, moving it over my skin until it rested at the small of my back again. I moved even closer, inches away from him, forcing him to meet my eyes.

"I don't care. You're the only person that has ever made me feel this way." I swallowed thickly, moving until I could feel his breath on my face. I looked at him with heavy-lidded eyes. "I need this, you. I love you." I whispered against his lips moments before I kissed him, pressing my torso against him and locking my arms around his neck.

"Oh, I'm going to hell." Edward murmured against my lips a moment before I felt his hands grip my hips and drag me up onto his lap. I rubbed myself against his hardness as our kiss deepened and I breathed him in, pulling him closer while I sat, straddling his lap. He massaged my tongue with his own as I breathed him in, writhing restlessly in his lap. I couldn't take it. The warmth and desire building steadily inside me was too much to stand. His hands moved over my body reverently as I moved above him, fingers biting into his shoulders. I moaned into his mouth breathily while my back arched towards his touch. His hands found the hem of my sweater and tugged upwards, slowly peeling the material away from my skin. I raised my arms up as he dragged it over my head and tossed it aside. His lips were brushing over my bare skin before my arms had fallen. His kisses moved down my collarbone. I instinctively leaned backwards, allowing him further access to me. His hands caressed my back, stopping to unclasp my bra, and it joined my sweater. My nipples hardened as the cool air hit me, bringing soft goose-bumps over my pale skin. I gasped as his mouth covered my breast, and my hips arched higher above him involuntarily and my back arched painfully as my head fell back. My lips formed a silent O as I writhed above him and quivered under his hands pleasant caress. My skin was burning feverishly and I was squirming with desire. I was throbbing and wanted more. He felt so good against me.

Our lips met again and my hands delved into his bronze locks, fingernails scraping lightly against his scalp. His hands held me to him as he stood up from the sofa and started walking towards his bedroom. My legs wrapped around his waist reflexively as he held me against him, continuing the kiss. My hands gripped the back of his neck, dragging him closer, and I bit his lower lip, hoisting myself up his body as I writhed against him uncontrollably. He stumbled, losing his footing, and the momentum plummeted us forward until I was pressed between him and the wall as we missed his bedroom door. The bedroom was shortly forgotten.

My fingers dragged over the muscles in his back as we kissed hungrily, and he pressed into me against the wall. My legs unwrapped from his waist and my feet returned to the floor for balance. I found the edge of his shirt and quickly tugged it up over his head, and threw it to the floor as my fingers danced over his delicious chest and down his abdomen. Edward's eyes fell closed at my lingering touch, pressing his forehead to mine gently as my fingertips traced the planes of his muscles. I darted forward to recapture his lips before he sunk to his knees before me, trailing his large hands over my bare skin, sending tingles through my veins. His lips trailed over my still sensitive abs as his hand deftly undid the button of my jeans, pulled down the zipper, and dragged the rough material over my hips as I arched towards him. My eyes closed at the sensation of his lips against my skin, trailing kisses down my stomach and pelvis as he dragged the jeans down my thighs, and I clumsily stepped out of them. My head fell back heavily against the wall as he removed the thin scrap of lace, and his mouth found my core. His arm wrapped around my waist securely as my knees threatened to give out. My fingers tangled in his hair as he licked and nipped at my clit. I cried out as the pressure began to build blissfully unbearably. I bit my lip to stop from chanting his name breathlessly as I thrashed beneath his touch. I both couldn't take it and needed more of it. My toes curled painfully and I cried out his name as climax hit me full force and threatened to knock me over as I convulsed in pleasure. His fingers replaced his lips, drawing out the orgasm as he allowed me to slowly sink to the floor, straddling his lap once again as I trembled, riding out the aftershock of orgasmic waves.

I completely collapsed into his arms, on his lap, letting my head fall onto his shoulder as I clung to him, shaking. My lips pressed against the soft curve of his neck as I panted, and by the time I came down from the high his fingers had begun the torturous cycle all over again. My body was a frenzied mess as I clung to the exquisite spasm ripping through me above him. His lips danced with his fingers along my skin, kissing and nipping gently at the skin of my neck, burrowing his face in my dark locks as I clung to him desperately. His thumb massaged my core as a long finger slipped slowly into my tight heat. I shuddered against him, moaning restlessly. He added another finger and I cried out his name, writhing above him as he watched me move with heated intensity. My walls clenched around his fingers, trying to pull him further into me. I couldn't stand it, it was too much. I screamed, digging my fingers into his shoulders and arching my back painfully. It was more than I could stand. I had to pull away… but I couldn't, because I needed it. My body fought between pulling away and pushing closer. I was in utter orgasmic frenzy.

"Edward…" I whimpered against him helplessly, pleadingly. He groaned lowly, closing his eyes tightly in control as his chest rumbled at the sound of my voice. Once my trembling eased, he pulled me closer, pushing up to his feet and placing an arm under my legs, carrying me into the bedroom. My eyes fluttered open and closed, weighed down with lust and my body was amazingly sated, yet I still yearned for him. I was still throbbing with an utter feel of emptiness. I needed him.

He set me down on the bed, but I stopped before he could pull the covers down. He wanted to put me to bed, and I wasn't having it. I still needed him. We weren't nearly done yet. I pulled him closer by the hem of his jeans, and unbuttoned the pants, dragging them down his hips. His hand fell to the back of my head, tangling in my hair as he watched me. I scooted back on the bed invitingly, still jerking slightly, arching towards him yearningly. He quickly disposed of the dark boxers, removing the only barrier left between us, and joined me on the bed, crawling over me and positioning him self above me. He tried to roll us, but I stopped him. I knew what he was doing, and it warmed my heart, but I didn't need it. I wanted him above me.

"Are you sure?" He whispered in a comforting tone, brushing a lock of hair from my face as he held himself above me with one arm. His words just made me even more wet and impatient, driving me crazy, and I darted upwards, pressing my lips to his firmly with desire as I spread my thighs, leaning them against his hips. I moaned into his mouth, sucking on his tongue as he slowly pushed into me. My eyes fell closed and I tried to repress a wince. He was too big, and I was too tight. It felt uncomfortable, yet I still felt like I needed him deeper. This yearning was driving me crazy. I swallowed thickly, pressing my fingers into his skin. He moved slowly, gently, until the feeling turned from discomfort to pleasure, and I needed more. I opened my eyes to find him staring at me in concern. His face was tight with restrain and his eyes were dark with desire. I whimpered pleasantly and he leaned down to capture my lips in a heated, breathy kiss. My legs wrapped around his waist, urging him on.

"God, you're so beautiful." He breathed adoringly, watching my expression closely as he moved above me in swift, deep strokes. I blushed at his words, averting my eyes, and leaned up to kiss his shoulder. It was really ridiculous, considering what I was in the middle of doing with him, in this position, and I blush over a compliment… really ridiculous. My hips started moving with him of their own accord, meeting his thrusts. We were both panting heavily as we moved together. I felt myself getting nearer, and I knew he could tell. My inner walls fluttered and clenched around him, trying to keep him, pull him deeper as we began to lose rhythm and became more frantic. I bit my lip, hiding my face in his shoulder as my climax overtook me, and my fingers bit into the muscle of his back. He thrust into me a few more times before coming, and we rode out our orgasms together. He collapsed, and his face fell into a pillow of my hair as our chests heaved together. He tried to roll us so his weight wasn't on me, but I held him in place, liking the feel of his weight on top of me. It was a different kind of weighed down, something I'd never felt before, and it made me feel content, happy, and protected. I gasped for breath, tilting my head back into the pillows, and started laughing lightly happily. Edward leaned up, looking at my face curiously with a pleasantly content expression on his face. His eyes were still incredibly intense as he watched me. I smiled up at him, feeling a strange sense of perfection—like perfect contentedness. Edward observed my eyes, finding something in them he was pleased with, because he gave me that perfect, heart-melting, crooked smile. He rolled over onto his back, pulling me onto his chest as he held me closely and I pressed my lips to his shoulder again. Then suddenly that perfect sensation occurred to me, and I remembered people referring to it as an afterglow. I had never understood what they meant until now. My breathing returned to normal and my eyes started to flutter tiredly. I fought it, not wanting to break this strange spell of afterglow by falling asleep, but Edward sensed it and brushed my hair back from my face, leaving a lingering kiss to my forehead.

"Go to sleep, Bella." He whispered to me, pulling me closer into him. I smiled lazily, closing my eyes and falling asleep in his arms. The sound of his steady heartbeat lulled me to sleep against his warm body. I prayed that the spell wouldn't break by morning. But I dreaded what I would wake up to, knowing that things as they were right now, were too perfect to ever last.

* * *

_A/N: Lucky 13, right? So tell me, how was it? It wasn't too crude was it?_

_Thank you for all the reviews, they're inspiring. I appreciate them immensely and love you all. _


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

I was right. God was I right. It had been too perfect to last. I can never be happy for too long, it just never works. I tensed in bed, tangled in the red sheet, under the blue comforter, in the dark room as I rolled onto my side and immediately realized the wrongness there. I was alone. He was gone. I knew this would happen—I just knew it. Did I really believe for even one second that I would be able to wake up happy in his arms? No, because I would have been happy, and obviously that's forbidden. Obviously I don't deserve it. I sat up in the bed, holding the sheet to my chest as protection. I looked down at his vacant side of the bed. There was a slip of paper lying on the pillow that should have been splayed with his beautiful russet locks. I angrily wiped away a few traitorous tears that escaped and trailed down my cheeks as I leaned against the headboard with my knees drain tightly to my chest, reaching towards the note.

_Bella,_

_I'm sorry. You need so much more. You deserve better._

_Edward_

I hate him and his self-righteous, guilt-ridden, beautiful, intelligent, good-hearted, witty, funny, perfect self. I hate him. I sighed inwardly, crumbling the paper in my hand and admonishing my own pathetic lie. The words sounded absurd even in my head. I could never hate that man, no matter how much I might wish I did. My eyes traveled over to his nightstand, where a fresh mug of coffee and a bagel on a small plate sat waiting for me. No, I really couldn't do anything but love the difficult man. I forced myself to think of Alice and her happiness and her optimism. If she were here, I really believe that she would say—"it will work out. Don't cry, just have patience."

I listened to my internal Tink and shed the last of my tears that morning, getting out of bed with the sheet wrapped around me. I seriously contemplated just waiting right there. It was his home, meaning he'd have to come back eventually. In the end, I decided to just go home. I was too afraid to sit and wait. I needed to escape—for now. I pushed myself into a memory of the previous night, and clung to that wonderful feeling as I gathered my clothes, which had been neatly folded and placed at the foot of the bed for me. God, I couldn't even call him a jerk. Even when he was abandoning me like the stereotypical jackass one-night-stand protocol, he was being a gentleman. He just has to make everything harder, doesn't he?

I got dressed, sat and drank the coffee, leaving the bagel untouched in protest, and made his bed. I found his copy of _Jane Eyre_ and set it aside, planning to take it with me. I brought the dish and mug to the kitchen, and flipped the paper open, writing below his message.

_Edward,_

_We're not done yet, not even close._

_Thank you for last night._

_Bella_

I smiled slyly as I slid the note into the space above his stereo where his favorite album usually rests. I took the album, placing it with the book by the door, and made sure everything was in place as I left. I drove home, keeping my mind occupied with thoughts of Alice and her perky, care-free, _'everything will be okay'_ outlook. I got home to the empty house and ignored the messages blinking on the machine, moving upstairs and drawing a hot bath. I spent as long as I could in the bath, reading _Jane Eyre_ as I soaked. I was fairly good at keeping my thoughts distracted and left with no room to wander. I was getting quite good at it with all the practice I've had. I went downstairs to the kitchen, staring at the fridge as I contemplated feeding myself. I found one lone bottle of strawberry Smirnoff ice left right in front with a post-it stuck to it.

_Bells,_

_Try to relax, no worries. Miss you, _

_Mom_

I shook my head at my mother's un-motherly antics. Sure, the drink only had 4% alcohol, but still, it was the principle of the thing. I pulled it out with a sweet roll and camped out on the sofa with my pillow. I reluctantly checked my cell's voicemail, finding three messages from Alice already. She wanted to talk and get together later on in the week. I texted her—I'd think about it. Later that night, I was still sitting in the same spot on the sofa as I was that morning when a boisterous pounding sounded from the front porch. I went to the living room window to investigate, only to find a strange blonde girl frantically knocking on the front door. I unlocked the bolts and opened the door for her. She immediately shoved her way into the house, crying hysterically and yelling—_he's gonna kill me_! I shut the door, locking it behind me, and turning back to see the hysterical girl collapse on the bottom step of the stairs in the foyer. I rushed forward, pulling her hands gently away from her face, shushing her loud sobs. When her crying finally slowed and she looked up at me, her face was murky with black-mascara tear streaks and mucus running down her chin.

"You're Bella, right?" She croaked out meekly, wiping her face with the sleeve of her blouse. I nodded, frowning at the messy girl. She was in her late teens, small and curvy, with unnaturally platinum blonde hair that reached her chin.

"Okay, I haven't seen someone in such a mess in a long time, so I'll have pity and be polite. But you need to explain this to me. First… who the hell are you? Second… what the hell is going on? And thirdly… what are you doing here, and how do you know my name?" The girl took in my words, barking out a bitter laugh that turned into a choked sob. She coughed to clear out her throat before answering. Her composure was still long gone, but at least she wasn't screaming any more.

"I'm Stephanie—Marcus told me about you. We got into a fight tonight, and I didn't know where to go. He drove me here, so I can't get home. And I knew your house was close, so I just…" I sighed, taking a seat solemnly beside her on the stairs. We talked for awhile longer before she decided to go to the police station and report Marcus's abuse—because apparently, I wasn't the only one he liked to take his anger out on. I felt the guilt set in heavily as I convinced her to stay the night, and I agreed to drive her to the station in the morning. I didn't want her leaving the house tonight, just in case. I put her to bed in my room and I camped out on the couch with my stun gun and steel baton lying beside me. I laid in the dark, staring at the ceiling as I berated myself. It was obvious that Marcus's type doesn't just stick with one specific person when they have an anger-management problem. It occurred to me that the few times he'd lost his temper with me wasn't likely to be the only times. And still, I did nothing to stop him. It was most of my doing any abuse Stephanie had suffered after the first time Marcus laid his hands on me. I could have prevented it. A petty voice in the back of my mind reminded me that Stephanie's abuse had obviously been going on longer than this, and she herself had the ability and obligation to do something to prevent it—which might have also prevented my abuse at Marcus's hand. The vicious circle went round and round, so I just stopped thinking about it, and took a page from Tink's book, looking at the bright side. After tomorrow morning, I would no longer need to worry about Marcus. I was far too tense to sleep, so I didn't even try, just occupied myself with Edward's book and waited for sunrise.

I checked in on Stephanie sporadically throughout the night—partly in order to placate my worry and guilt, and partly to assure my nerves that she hadn't changed her mind about pressing charges, and skipped out. My nervousness was unjust. Stephanie was sound asleep in my bed the entire night, whimpering softly occasionally due to her dreams. I curled up in an arm chair by the living room window and watched twilight come and go as morning arrived. I woke Stephanie up with a cup of coffee and she was grateful. The girl was sweet, and rather quiet and timid when she wasn't in hysterics. We spoke for a few minutes, and she cried on my shoulder when I comforted her… which made me extremely uncomfortable, but my guilt kept me in place as she hugged me as if we'd known each other our entire lives. The girl was very touchy. After she pulled herself together, we cautiously went out to my Nissan, and I drove towards the Jacksonville police station. I parked out in front, and was surprised by the traffic coming in and out. I wouldn't have thought there would be much crime here. Jacksonville's crime rate was surprisingly low this year, or so Charlie had informed me when he heard we were moving. I sat there, staring out the windshield and tapping my fingers anxiously on the steering wheel.

"Um, do you need me to come in with you?" I asked her in a comforting, concerned tone. I was reluctant, barely got the words out, but again, my guilt convinced me to offer. I really didn't want to have to do this with her. Stephanie pressing charges on him is enough. There was no need for my account as well. But if she wanted me to hold her hand… than my conscience would give me no choice but to be there for her. Fortunately for me, she just smiled kindly and shook her head.

"Thank you… for everything. But I can do this on my own." She assured me bravely.

"Will you need me to wait—give you a ride home?" I asked, waiting for her to affirm. She nodded gratefully before climbing out of the car and sprinting towards the station's entrance. Two hours later, Stephanie emerged from the station and returned to the car. I drove her home as she gave me directions, and she told me that the charges have been filed and they would get back to her when they arrested him for assault. I personally didn't want anymore to do with it than that. I dropped her off and returned home. As I unlocked the front door, I pulled out my cell, and dialed Alice's number.

"I'll be right there." Was what I heard from the pixie before I'd even gotten out a—hello.

"Thanks." I breathed out with a sigh of relief, collapsing onto the sofa as soon as I reached the living room. Either I fell asleep, or Tink could actually fly, because the next thing I knew, I was opening my eyes to a blaringly cheery smile as Alice hovered over me.

"Man, you look exhausted!" said Alice empathically, stroking my hair as she perched on the edge of the sofa, pressing her lower back against my side.

"Thanks…" I mumbled tiredly, blinking to get the sleep out of my eyes. My hand flew up to protect my eyes from the light shining into the room. "Do me a favor, Tink, and shut the drapes."

"Can do…" She chirped happily, bouncing across the room and tugging the curtains closed. She returned to her place beside me and stroked my hair again lovingly. She heaved a heavy sigh and stared down at me warmly. "I'm sorry Edward ran away like a chicken, Bella. He's practically a genius, but the boy can be so stupid sometimes." I sighed heavily, and dropped my hand over my face haggardly as I pursed my lips.

"Tink, what should I do?"

"Have patience, and be persistent. Edward will get over this chip-on-shoulder, righteous guilt routine and smarten up. He'll realize what's important and what his happiness—and yours—is worth. He loves you, he's just thinking too much." I pulled my hand away from my eyes, and looked up at her with a raised brow and vulnerable eyes. My heart jumped at her words. _'He loves you.' _My head was protective, reluctant to believe the words and give me more hope to be crushed, but my body tingled with an ecstatic electrical current at the thought. He couldn't… could he? It wasn't likely. How could he? I'm so… not worthy of him. I'm so screwed up.

"How do you know?" I asked, trying to suppress the hopeful tone in my voice—to no avail. She frowned down at me for a moment before her features brightened with a wide grin.

"I'm Alice. I know everything." She assured me smugly, causing a silly grin to break out in my expression. "Now scoot over." She ordered faux-sternly, pushing me further into the couch and laying down beside me. Alice rested her head on my shoulder, smiling contently as she flung an arm over my stomach and closed her eyes. I laughed under my breath at the eccentric Tinkerbelle. I sighed contentedly, fidgeting until I got comfortable, and fell asleep beside the pixie, allowing her nearness to spread a small feeling of warmth through me, that reminded me of her brother's presence. It wasn't the same, but it was close. I found myself going against natural instinct, and believing her optimistic words of assurance and comfort.

* * *

_A/N: Sorry for the wait, I had to drive my mother to the hospital for eye surgery. So here you go, tell me what you think, and I'll get the next one up quicker. Things will finally start to heat up, I swear._

_Thank you for the reviews, they're love._


	16. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

I re-read the email from Stephanie again, my eyes grazed over her words repeatedly as I forced myself to feel safe. It was over—he was locked up, and could never reach me again. I selfishly decided not to let this piece of information be known by Edward, who was still texting me everyday in an assurance of survival. If I told him that Marcus was gone, he would stop texting me, and so far, that was the only form of communication I had with incessant ringing of the telephone downstairs brought me out of my trance-like state, and had me hopping off the bed raggedly and dragging my tired ass downstairs. I grabbed the phone from the hook on the last ring, just before the line would have went dead. I pulled it to my ear and flopped down on the sofa with a loud _humph_.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah…? That's how you greet your mother… yeah?" Renee mocked jokingly as I played with a strand of hair.

"Hey ma, how's Cali?"

"Awesome. And I would go on for a few hours about just how wonderful it is, but I can tell from your tone that you really aren't in the mood. Still upset about that older professor of yours?"

"Doctor, mom, not professor—and yes, I really am. I've been trying to keep my hopes inflated, but really, I'm just not sure anymore. I'm starting to wonder whether Alice's words didn't mean anything, and I should just try to move on." I didn't mention to mom that even thinking about 'moving on' from him was excruciating. The hole was more apparent than ever this past week, and I was having trouble keeping myself together. Whenever I had a moment without distraction to keep me busy, my mind wandered to dark, vile places. I was starting to unwillingly convince myself that I would never see him again, and it was for the best. The man was amazing, and he deserved someone so much better than I could ever be. I shouldn't try so hard to stay in his life, when I know that I will just bring him down with all my twisted defects. But whenever I seriously consider this train of thought, my selfishness kicks in, and I pettily continue to pray for his return. I only consider going to see him again about every other three minutes of each day—I even dream about it, in between my nightmares.

"Well, perhaps it's for the best. Whatever you decide dear will be the right thing to do. I know you, Bells. You'll get over this."

"Yeah, of course." I lied lamely, throwing a touch of fake exuberance in my tone, lightening it up from the dull, zombified voice that seems to be all I can muster up without conscious effort. I padded ungracefully into the kitchen, grabbing the pint of double fudge ice cream Alice dropped off yesterday, and digging into it as I returned to the sofa. If I was to be miserable, I might as well play the part thoroughly. I'd veg out and be completely comfortable in my void-y hole-ness. Or at least I'd try. Renee went on to describe to me exactly how Phil acquired his latest injury, and I tuned out and focused on my ice cream, adding little noises of attentiveness at the right intervals.

"Oh, guess what though!" My mother exclaimed proudly.

"Hmm?"

"We sent you something—a care package of sorts. It was all Phil's idea." She gushed happily.

"I'm sure it was." I consented dryly, uncrossing my legs from in front of me.

"Have you checked the mail yet today? It was supposed to be there by now." I pushed myself up off the couch, setting the pint of ice cream down on the coffee table, and trudged out to the mailbox, pinning the phone between my ear and shoulder. Sure enough, just as she said, there was a medium sized, manila envelop, waiting for me, along with a stack of bills and white envelops. I carried the pile inside and dropped the mess onto the coffee table. I ripped into the package as Renee gushed into my right ear about how Phil insisted they send me a care package to cheer me up as soon as she mentioned my being depressed. I emptied the contents of the package onto the table in front of me as I crossed my legs, sitting on the floor with my elbows on the table.

"DVD's?" I asked skeptically.

"Not just DVD's sweetheart, the classic Disney collection. All your favorites from when you were a little girl. The quality stuff, not that junk they make nowadays." I flipped through the pile of movies slowly, examining each cover.

"_Cinderella, the Lion King, the Little Mermaid, Beauty and the Beast, Snow White, Jungle Book, Lady and the Tramp, 101 Dalmatians, Aladdin_… Christ ma, where did you find all of these?" I asked, astonished. This was like, the best Classic Disney collection I had ever seen. Phil must have gone to a lot of trouble to gather all of these quality titles together for me. I was actually touched. Renee squealed on the other end of the line with proud excitement. I chuckled lowly at her reaction.

"So, I take it you like your present?" She phished coyly; I could see her expression in my mind easily. I set the collection of movies aside and started riffling through the stack of mail.

"Yes, tell Phil I love it."

"Oh, I knew this would cheer you up, sweetie. They'll make you feel better, you'll see. A healthy dose of nostalgia is just what you need to lift your spirits." I nodded dully before remembering she couldn't see me.

"Thanks." I mumbled, pushing to my feet with a small stack of bills in my hand as I returned the melting ice cream to the freezer. My steps faltered on the way back to the sofa as I reached an unmarked envelop. There was no return address, just my name and address written in black expo marker. I got the strangest flashback to that movie—_I know what you did last summer_. And suddenly, I was Jennifer Love Hewitt, only less pretty. I laughed at myself and the weird turn my thoughts had taken, tuning Renee's chatter out as my shoulder still pinned the phone to my ear. I shook my thoughts away, and pulled out a folded up letter. I held the one page letter in my hands as my eyes roamed over the words. Suddenly, my heart beat painfully against my ribcage and my breath was hard to catch. Renee's voice sounded far away and foggy right before my body froze and the phone crashed to the floor with a loud clatter, spilling out batteries from the cordless phone onto the floor. I fell violently to my knees—launching myself towards the phone as my shaking hands hurried to stuff the batteries back into the phone and hold it up to my ear.

"Mom? Mom?!" The dead dial tone greeted me, and I flung the phone away from me in anger, watching as it hit the wall a few feet away and shattered into cheap plastic pieces. My fingers bit angrily into the carpet of the living room floor as I hovered over the ground on my hands and knees, gasping for breath I could never fully intake. My chest hurt excruciatingly and the feeling of suffocation pressed down on me. My vision blurred as darkness bit at the edges of my sight. I scurried across the floor, racing into the kitchen and slamming my back up against the hard cupboard. Everything was closing in on me, and I couldn't stand it. I needed it to stop. I just couldn't stand it. _Fuck standing my ground… I just want it to stop!_ My mind screamed.

That was the last coherent thought I had before I found my arms mechanically reach above my head, scrambling to wrench open the utensil drawer and pull out the first thing my fingers closed around. I brought my hands down to see that I was clutching a chopping knife. It wasn't even a full half of a second later that the knife slid swiftly against the skin of my wrist, breaking through the only protective barrier I had left, and shattering my resolve irreparably with an abrupt sting and severe burn. As I watched the syrupy crimson spill out onto the stark whiteness of the kitchen floor, my shortness of breath dissipated, and my heart stopped hurting so much as it slowed. My head fell back against the cupboard, and I closed my eyes, frowning as I waited for peace to arrive. I heard music emanating from somewhere near me, and I smiled through the pain at the softness of the melody. It was familiar to me, and comforting. It fell silent as the music stopped briefly before returning even louder than before. I tried to open my eyes to see where it was coming from, but I was too weak. That's a theme with me—weakness. My back slid down the cupboard as I sprawled out on the floor. I felt the warm thickness of the liquid pooling around me soak my thin shirt and muss my tangled hair. The soft words lulled me into darkness.

'_I'll be your crying shoulder  
I'll be love suicide  
I'll be better when I'm older  
I'll be the greatest fan of your life'_

…

I moaned as the darkness receded, replaced by shining light and the vision of an angel… my angel. He rushed towards me, slipping in the crimson liquid pooled around me, and landed on his knees beside me. He lifted my torso up, cradling me half in his arms as his wide, beautiful eyes roamed over me in panic.

"Bella… Bella! What have you done, Bella?! What have you done?!" I whimpered at the pain as he adjusted me in his arms, rocking slightly in terror as he shook me, trying to get my attention. My eyes fluttered open for a few brief seconds, taking in his blurry form hovering above me. His hands were on my face, in my hair, on my back, and completely soaked in the crimson syrup. I choked out a gasp of air when I tried to comfort his look of anguish. My throat wouldn't work. I was only slightly aware of consciousness as I regarded my angel weakly as my redemption, or absolution. At first I thought I was dreaming, and _oh what a lovely dream to have as my last_, but the pain made sure I was not dreaming. I considered I might be in heaven, but then realized that my chances of getting into heaven were slim. And why would there be this sort of pain in heaven? I went back to my dreaming theory, and relaxed, bathing in his presence. But soon I was being lifted off the ground and out of the thick pool of crimson. Wind whipped through my hair easily as I was jostled in his arms. We were going somewhere, but I didn't know where. I didn't care… I would follow him anywhere—absolutely anywhere. Though, in this case it was more me allowing him to take me anywhere. The darkness crept up on me once again and I succumbed to it immediately, feeling perfectly content in his arms. I would let the darkness come, because he was still here with me.


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

I opened my eyes slowly, immediately re-closing them when the blaring light stabbed at them invasively. I groaned in discomfort. I was dead. I had to be dead. I sure felt dead. Then I regained my senses slowly, though they were still blurred. I registered my surroundings stilly with my eyes closed. I took note of the quiet, constant beeping sound that resembled the tempo of my heartbeat, and the muffled sounds of life far off in the distance. There was a soft buzzing sound from the florescent light bolted to the ceiling above me, and when I moved my arm, I realized I was hooked up to wires. _Hospital_—my mind thought immediately. I had woken up in places too similar to this too many times not to recognize my surroundings. Once I was sure my lungs were working on their own, though that was painful, I tugged the tube trailing across my face out of my nostrils and threw it aside. I grunted as my right wrist jerked reflexively in pain when I bumped it against the metal guard aligned to the side of my hospital bed. It was covered in padding of gauze. I craned my neck to look around the room. It was empty, except for me, but there was a curtain drawn close to the only door in the room, and I saw two pairs of feet sticking out from under it. I heard them, the two men standing just outside the room, arguing in hushed tones. I pushed myself up until I was propped into a halfway sitting position, ignoring the IV's hooked into me. I recognized both the silky voices even in their hushed tones. One made my heart beat faster, unnecessarily alerting me to this fact by the monitor I was hooked up to, and warmth melted my insides to liquid. Then it hit me.

I tried to kill myself. And I almost succeeded. All because of a panic attack. I recognized it, knew what it was. I'd suffered from a severe panic attack once before, but I hadn't gone so far as to slit my wrist. I couldn't think about it, I'd kill myself. I wasn't strong enough to let my thoughts go over things like that right now. I closed my eyes with relief, sighing tiredly. Footsteps drew closer, and I reopened my eyes to look up at Edward. I wasn't surprised… I knew it was him. The look on his face made me cringe back. He rested his hands on the edge of my bed, letting his head fall as he exhaled heavily.

"I'm sorry." I told him truthfully in a quiet voice. He looked up at me, and his eyes shined with wetness. His shirt was stained with dried blood—_my blood_. And there was more under his fingernails. He gritted his teeth and his jaw clenched in response to my words. His eyes hardened for a moment before immediately softening as he slipped behind a protective mask. His Adam's apple bobbed sorely as he swallowed thickly, inhaling deeply through his nostril's for patience. I bit my lower lip and looked down, ashamed to have caused his upset. I really wish he hadn't of seen me like that. That was the last thing I wanted. "I'm sorry." I repeated myself, not knowing what else to say.

"Don't. Ever. Do that. Again." He ordered me in a frighteningly tight voice. I nodded docilely at his words. "Say it." I stayed silent, biting my lip and avoiding his eyes. "Say it." He told me again in a harder voice, imploring me to cooperate.

"I promise you—I won't ever do it again." I swore to him truthfully. He released a breath and unclenched his fists. I felt his hand under my chin, turning me to look at him. I licked my dry, pale lips, meeting his gaze with wide eyes. He sighed, brushing a tear streak off my cheek with his thumb. He suddenly leaned forward over the bed, resting his head against mine and closing his eyes in relief.

"I thought I'd lost you." He admitted quietly as we shared air. His hands cradled my face carefully, fingers tangled in my hair as we stared at each other for a long, silent moment that stretched on. Then, he blinked, averted his gaze, and pulled away, hardening slightly. He crossed his arms over his chest stiffly as he regarded me coolly.

"I managed to convince my father to wave the psych consult and release you into my care. So understand this, Bella. You are my responsibility now. So you will _never_ pull something like that again. Are we clear?" I nodded agreeably at his words, holding myself gingerly. His tone was hard and unrelenting. I wouldn't go against it even if I wanted to. He nodded, satisfied, and turned to close the door to the hospital room, leaving us in privacy. I pushed myself up into a seated position, and attempted to throw my legs over the edge. Dizziness swept heavily over me with an iron hand, prohibiting my movements. Edward was there in front of me before I regained my composure.

"What do you think you're doing?" He asked incredulously.

"I'm going home… as soon as I get out of this bed and find my clothes." I informed him matter-of-factly, closing my eyes, trying to fight off the extreme fatigue.

"Bella, don't be ridiculous. You're too weak. You lost a lot of blood, and even with the transfusion, it will take days to regain your strength."

"Well, I can regain my strength at home."

"No. Now, lie back down before you hurt yourself." He demanded, and I felt his hands on me, trying to gingerly push me back towards the bed. I refused to lie down again. It was hard enough getting into a sitting position the first time. I shook my head stubbornly.

"Edward, I want to go home. I hate hospitals."

"Well, maybe you should have thought about that _before_ trying to kill yourself." I groaned, glaring up at him weakly.

"Don't be mean." I grumbled petulantly to him, gripping his forearms and using him as leverage to pull myself off the bed. Luckily, he kept me standing as I swayed tiredly and my knees wobbled. I really didn't want to meet the floor. It was cold, hard, and cruel, and I knew we just wouldn't get along very well. "Please, Edward." I whispered in a pathetically sad sounding voice. I knew my demanding wouldn't get me anywhere, so I tried the next best thing. I pleaded. "I really just want to go home. Take me home, please." I murmured against his chest with my eyes closed as he kept me standing. I felt his resolve weaken against me and I smiled to myself as he sighed in resignation.

"Fine," He acquiesced. He guided me backwards, perching me wobbly on the edge of the bed as he crossed the room and picked up a pile of familiar clothes on a chair in the corner. He placed the clothes on the bed beside me, and I immediately picked up my pair of jeans. He turned around, stepping towards the door as I bent over dangerously and tried to fit my feet through the two long holes in the pants. I tripped and stumbled and almost fainted a few times before I resorted to throwing away the last of my dignity.

"Edward…" I whined imploringly, causing him to turn around and grin crookedly at the sight before him. He rushed across the room towards me, letting my hands rest on his forearms for support as he dragged my jeans over my hips. I rolled my eyes skyward in embarrassment. He nimbly zipped and buttoned my jeans, all the while keeping his eyes glued to my crimson red face. I groaned under my breath, meeting his eyes once my bottom half was securely covered.

"You're enjoying my misery, aren't you?" I grumbled in response to his small, amused grin. His face immediately fell at me words, and solemnity took over. I could have smacked myself—me and my big mouth. He tensed beside me. I sighed apologetically, and turned back towards the pile of clothes. I just realized that the pile now consisted of just my bra.

"Um…" I started.

"Your shirt was soaked in blood. They had to cut it off of you." He informed me solemnly. Well that's great. What the hell am I supposed to wear? I turned around slowly, giving him access to the back of my hospital gown. He untied the strings as I reached for my bra. I clasped it on underneath the paper gown before shrugging it off my shoulders. I turned back around to find Edward with his back towards me, reaching behind him with his button-up over-shirt in his hand. He'd pulled it off for me, leaving him in just the old, faded t-shirt—which was stained in blood now. I took the shirt from him gratefully, resting my bottom on the edge of the bed tiredly before I fell, and pulled the shirt up my shoulders, buttoning a few of the middle buttons—not bothering with the rest. The shirt was huge on me, the sleeves dragged over my hands and the hem reached my thighs. It hung loose on me, obscuring my figure comfortably. I cleared my throat, signaling decency, and he turned back around.

"Wait here—I'll go sign you out. I've already taken care of the paperwork." He told me, making sure I was secure on the bed before leaving the room. I rubbed my temple tiredly with my uninjured hand. I took deep, even breaths with my eyes closed. When Edward returned, he was followed closely by Dr. Carlisle Cullen. Obviously Edward had called in a favor. Carlisle checked me out as Edward leaned against the far wall, watching me closely. After Carlisle gave me the okay, the nurse came in and unhooked my IV's and monitors. She frowned disapprovingly at me as Edward helped me off the bed and out of the room slowly but steadily. Obviously, she didn't agree with Dr. Cullen's choice not to keep me here until the psychiatrist could consult me and decide to lock me in the psych-ward downstairs. I ignored her, and allowed Edward to guide me towards the parking lot. He'd handed me a pair of blue hospital booties before we left the room. Apparently I was bare-footed when he found me, and for some reason, it didn't occur to him to grab me a pair of shoes. He was too busy trying to keep me alive. Oh well, I'll just have to deal with the booties.

He leaned me up against a pillar under the awning as he went to get his Sedan. He pulled up and hopped out of the car, leaving it running. I was already halfway there when he reached me, lifting me with ease up into the vehicle. I sank back in the seat tiredly as he drove us home. I closed my eyes—just to rest for a moment—and the next thing I knew I was drearily aware of was the car parked in my driveway and Edward opening the passenger side door and scooping me gently into his arms. He cradled my limp body against his chest as he climbed the front porch and pushed the door open with his foot. He shut the door behind us with a swift kick backwards, and climbed the stairs towards my bedroom. He didn't bother turning on any lights, even though it was dark, outside and in. He set me down in bed, pulling the covers down. I moaned softly, comforted by the softness beneath me and his presence close by. He dragged off my jeans carefully and pulled the covers over me. His warm hand stroked my hair away from my forehead as his lips caressed me for a brief second before he pulled away. The door shut softly and his footsteps faded. I fought sleep desperately as I strained to listen to his movements downstairs. I didn't leave, just moved around doing something downstairs, probably in the kitchen. Once I felt secure that he wouldn't leave, I gave in, letting sleep claim me.

* * *

_A/N: How was it? I'm so sorry, but this may be the last chapter up for the next few days due to an impromtu out-of-town family gathering over the holidays. I will try to keep working on it at any spare moment I have, so there just may be an update tomorrow, but don't count on it. Then again, maybe if your reviews enthuse me, I won't be able to stop myself from cranking it out. Hope you enjoy. Love for all the reviews and alerts._

_Sarah_


	18. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

_The wintry air whipped around my body icily, and my chestnut locks danced wildly in the strong breeze like chocolate tendrils, blowing into my face and hindering my blurry sight. My lips were chapped and sore, and my throat was dry. My fingers were frozen and numb, and my eyes were watering due to the icy wind. My lungs burned painfully, and shivers wracked my body, debilitating my balance as I moved forward in slow, measured steps. The cold asphalt of the rooftop was slippery with ice and jagged against my feet. I walked closer, advancing slowly but surely on the edge, and stopped—my toes hanging over the edge, as I peered down into the dark, wavy surface of the black water below. I don't know what I was doing here, but I knew I needed to leave. I shouldn't be here. Suddenly, the waves rose and the wind current increased, and I found myself unsteady against the edge of the height. My body began to tip over, and my feet left the ground as I started to cross over the edge. Arms like granite snaked around my midsection, halting me midair, and pulling me back, dragging me away from the edge, and grounding me on safe land. I felt his breath on my neck, and it overrode the searing breeze, stilling the air. His heartbeat pressed solidly against my back softened my breath, removing the burn from my lungs. His arm slipped under my knees and the other cradled my neck as I was swept up off the ground and into his steady hold, easing the jagged pain against my feet. When I looked into his eyes—liquid heat and warm emerald—I felt the coldness dissipate around me, replaced by reliable warmth that soaked my heart with perfect contentedness. Suddenly, the darkness blanketing us was no longer cold and demanding in its anguish, but a safe haven providing us with a warm place to hide from the cruelness of the world. _

The screams and tremors from my nightmare faded as my breathing softened. I was vaguely aware of familiar arms wrapped securely around my shoulders from behind as we rocked back and forth to a soothing melody hummed under his breath. The light receded as he lulled me back towards the sheltered darkness.

I woke up to warm sunlight bathing over my ultra-pale complexion, warming the goose-bumps and halting the soft, occasional shudder of chill. I sighed heavily, stretching my lungs at the same time I stretched my muscles out, sprawling tautly out over the wide bed. I felt an immense improvement from the last time I was conscious. The rest must have majorly improved my fatigue and rejuvenated my energy. I lay in bed for a few moments, staring at the ceiling as I woke up, and caught the distinct sound of life happening downstairs somewhere. I could hear a pair of feet shuffling softly and the dryer was on in the laundry room adjoined to the kitchen. I sat up in bed as the previous day came back to me. I held up my wrist, examining the white bandage wrapped around it in layers. I carefully peeled back the edge to peek underneath the gauze. The laceration was three inches long horizontally on the wrist, right below my palm. The skin around the gash was red with soreness and there was eight small stitches holding the torn skin together. As far as injuries go, I'd had much worse due to my accident prone self. I had just never let that much blood loss occur. I would be fine—physically, anyway. I swung my legs over the edge and planted my feet firmly on the floor before pushing off from the bed. I swayed for a moment before gaining my balance and keeping myself steady on my feet. I was wearing an over-sized dress shirt that hung open loosely around me. It covered my panties and a few inches of my upper thigh, but not much. I couldn't remember where I'd gotten it from. I padded gracelessly downstairs, skipping over the living room and heading straight towards the kitchen, where I heard someone moving around. I had hoped it would be Edward, remembering that he had stayed through the night, but my pessimism was trying to convince me otherwise.

I walked in, sighing in relief as I took in the sight of Edward, leaning over the kitchen counter, staring out the small window. I took a seat on one of the dining chairs, resting my head on my arm against the table, and stared up at him. He turned slowly, already sensing my arrival. The look in his eyes said guilt, worry, and reluctance, and his smile was tight and strained. I noticed a bucket and mop set aside in the corner, and realized that the kitchen had changed drastically from the last time I'd been in here. For one thing, the floor was clean and free of crimson blood—my blood. He must have washed the blood-stained clothes and cloths, and that was why the dryer was running.

"Good morning, Bella." He spoke tentatively, taking the seat opposite me at the table. I sat up straight, leaning my elbows straight on the table with my fingers laced together.

"I didn't think you'd still be here." I said softly, keeping my eyes forcibly glued to my interlaced fingers to prevent my gaze from landing and never leaving him. I chanced a quick, timid glance up to see his expression, and realized my words seemed to anger him slightly—though it looked to be self-anger. He was offended by my words—that I knew. I licked my lips, sighing, and moving my head so that my hair fell back from my face.

"I'm sorry you assumed that." Was all he said, and I watched him silently for a few moments before blurting out my concern.

"You didn't tell your sister, did you?" I asked worriedly, fretting over the possibility that Tink might know what had happened. I couldn't stand the thought of her reaction to this. Edward's eyes slipped down to my wrist for a second before returning to my face.

"I didn't, no, but I doubt my father would have kept it from her. He knows how attached she has grown to you so quickly." I cringed, closing my eyes in shame at the thought of Alice all upset over something I did. I couldn't believe what a mess I had made. But then again, Edward was here, so how bad could it be?

"I found this… while I was cleaning up." He told me softly, gingerly placing a folded letter on the tabletop, and leaving it resting between us. My expression went cold as I quickly retreated behind my shields of protective walls. It wouldn't do to have another meltdown. I don't want to waste the time I have with Edward here. I nodded warily in response, acknowledging his words, but nothing else. He left the letter there, but didn't continue with his previous path of words. He raked a hand through his bronze locks, which were mussed and chaotically perfect, and sighed, glancing to the side before pinning me with a stern but gentle stare that demanded my attention.

"Why, Bella? Why would you do something like that? I know this is hard, but I never would have imagined that you would resort to hurting yourself. I truly believed you were far too stubborn for that. If I had believed that there was even the slightest chance of you doing something like this—" He paused, gesturing towards the room we sat in, referring to the previous night's events. "—I would have never left you alone to deal with this. I thought you had gotten better, strong enough to heal yourself. You had showed such a vast improvement before, and then what…? It was all just torn down by one stupid letter? He shouldn't have this much power over you, Bella." Edward's words died off, replaced by a strained sigh as he prevented himself from continuing. I kept my eyes trained on my lap as he spoke, too ashamed to meet his eyes. I knew I'd disappointed him, and I couldn't stand that. He was right though, I should have never allowed Jess that much power over me. I should have never allowed him any power over me. Once again, I had failed myself and everyone I loved.

"Bella, please… you've gotta give me some answers here. Help me understand this, because I'm going crazy right now." His stern tone took on a note of pleading, as did his eyes when he looked at me imploringly. I couldn't ignore that look, or that voice. I had to say something—tell him something that might ease his upset. But what could I say? I had no idea, so I went with the best truth I could reach. I myself didn't understand exactly why.

"I didn't try to kill myself." I admitted truthfully. He gave me an impatient, aggravated look that showed he assumed I was lying.

"Bella…" He began.

"Really, Edward, I swear I didn't. If I had intended to kill myself, I couldn't have ended my life without saying goodbye to Renee, or Alice for that matter. Besides, I would never consciously give up like that. Like you said, I'm a fighter, and far too stubborn for that. I would have never coped out like a coward. I couldn't do that to my mom." I left out the—or you—part.

"If you weren't trying to kill yourself, than what was it you were doing?" Thankfully, he left out the sarcasm he would have normally inserted into that sentence. His gaze had lowered unconsciously to my wrist again, and the pained expression on his face caused me to pull my hands back, hiding them in my lap, under the table. His eyes returned to mine, and I inhaled deeply, drawing the courage to explain this to him.

"It's kind of hard to explain."

"Try me." He bit back dryly.

"When I read that letter, I don't remember exactly what happened. I remember having a severe panic attack, and I kind of blurred out after that. I wasn't thinking anything but—make it stop—and I didn't consciously decide to end my life. I don't know what happened. The next thing I remember is the panic easing, and then you were there. That's all I know. But I did _not want_ to kill myself." I told him sternly, trying to make him believe me. He watched me stare at him for a few long moments before finding whatever answer he had been searching me for, and sighing in resignation. He leaned back in the chair, taking me in from top to bottom with a look of consideration. I forced myself to stay impassive and not squirm under his intense observation.

"Alright, I believe you." He finally decided, pursing his lips carefully. I pushed back the urge to reach over the table and touch him, pressing his soft, delectable lips to mine. The memory of our night together swarmed my mind and a shudder of pleasure surged through my spine, down to my core. I inwardly smacked myself, forcing a neutral façade before I completely humiliated myself. Now was so not the time to be having those kinds of thoughts. His voice cleared out my mind and focused my attention on him, presently here and now, and his words.

"I believe you had an actual psychotic break. It's brought on by sudden increased stress to the emotional and physical state. Though psychosis usually has a slow-building up progression before you reach the breaking point, it can sometimes happen unexpectedly without the typical signs of progression when someone is prone to repress major things—like you do. The initial breakdown usually only lasts a day or so before you move past it and into either recovery or deterioration. You wouldn't remember anything from the breakdown and your memories surrounding it may be fuzzy. You, Bella, though, seem to have immediately slipped into your slow recovery state as soon as the panic attack/breakdown ended." I watched him intently, basking in the soothing sound of his voice and the heated warmth from his eyes. I had a difficult time following his words and actually understanding them all in-depth, but the basic meaning his words were trying to get across to me were somewhat understood. Renee had taken classes in psychology when I was 13, when 2nd cousin David was diagnosed with bi-polar disorder. I knew enough to discuss it without sounding like a moron, but that's about it. I really didn't want to talk about this, another one of my failures and defects, but I could listen to his voice continuously for lifetimes.

"Were you here all night?" I asked, trying to change the subject. He nodded affirmatively.

"You're mother called earlier this morning." He told me carefully, gauging my reaction closely. My eyes widened in panic and I straightened from my slouch, leaning towards him.

"What's wrong? Did something happen? What did you tell her? You didn't mention anything about this, did you? Oh, god… you did not tell her about this, right?! What did you tell her… about why you answered my phone? You didn't—"

"Bella!" Edward called out to get my attention through the haze of frantic worry that had washed over me. He stood up, leaning over the table and gripping my shoulders firmly. "Calm down, Bella. I did not tell your mother much at all. I explained to her that you had had an accident, and I had taken you home from the hospital. I told her that you were resting, and that she should call later this afternoon if she wished to speak with you." I calmed down drastically at his words. I don't know what I would do if Renee had found out.

"Thank you." I breathed out gratefully in relief.

"Don't thank me yet." He warned. I eyed him warily, waiting for him to continue. "I did not inform your mother of your situation because I was waiting for your explanation. I did not want her to worry and panic before I knew the entire story. I also wanted to give you the opportunity to tell her once you're ready." I jumped in my seat, licking my lips and jiggling my legs impatiently.

"Edward no…" I pleaded. "Please, don't say anything to her. She wouldn't be able to handle it. If I told her, she would come home, and never feel comfortable leaving me again. The distance would destroy her relationship with Phil and she would be so unhappy. It won't do any good for her to know. Please, just let this be, Edward." The Adonis before me sighed reluctantly, internally debating his response. He sat back down in his seat and stared, willing me to back down and change my mind. I set my jaw and met his gaze stubbornly, adding strong hints of pleading in my expression. Edward looked away first, turning his head to the side for a moment and letting his eyes close, already regretting his next words.

"Alright, Bella—you win. I won't tell Renee… as long as you meet all of my requirements. You slip up one more time, and I will inform her of everything."

"Name it." I retorted without thought.

"I'll have to think carefully about that, but the most important is that these self-destructive habits of yours—all of them—will end right now." I nodded agreeably.

"Now, I have a question." I told him after a moment's silence. The room went still and calm, and we both just sat, perfectly relaxed at ease in the quietness. I played with the sleeves of his shirt nervously, glancing down at my hands timidly. He watched me intently with patience. "Why are you here?" I asked. The question seemed simple, but we both knew what I meant. Edward fidgeted in his seat, avoiding my gaze before apparently gaining his composure and turning back to me, meeting my timid gaze with a look of determination.

"You didn't return my text. I was worried, and rightly so."

"Okay, but why are you here? This here—" I pointed in between us with a raised brow. "—is not you staying away." I watched with worried, reluctantly hopeful eyes as I waited for his answer. My insides were warring over whether I actually wanted to know the answer. Edward leaned forward towards me—his eyes warm, scared, and soft. I had never seen that look in his eyes before, and it made it nearly impossible for me to resist my urges when it came to being near him.

"I… I'm here, Bella. And I'm not going anywhere… ever again. Not as long as you want me to stay." My heart stopped at his words, then started up again with a weak flutter. I had to be delusional. I couldn't have heard what I thought I heard. Then the truth of the situation occurred to me, and my expression hardened protectively.

"I don't need or want your pity, Edward." I snapped harshly, turning to stare out the kitchen window as I repressed the urge to cry and feel his arms around me. That was blasphemy—if it was the only thing that let me have him, then I desperately needed his pity. But my pride caused me to snap at him defensively. Besides, I couldn't bear it if he was unhappy because he was near me out of pity because of his good heart. I couldn't stand that. I heard the chair slide across the tile and Edward round the table before he crouched on his knees in front of me. He lifted my chair legs off the ground with ease, and turned it before setting it back down facing him, forcing me to look at him. His expression was harder than it had been, but there was an imploring openness in his eyes that begged me to see something. My resolve almost shattered as I looked into his eyes. God I loved this man.

"Don't speak that way, Bella. It makes you sound less intelligent than you are." I glared at him angrily. That was not what I had expected to hear. His eyes told me to stay quiet and let him continue. "I could never pity you. Empathize, yes, but never pity. I have too much respect for you to ever pity you."

"Than why—" I began, but was cut off before I could finish.

"The short time I spent away from you proved dastardly to not only my mental health, but your physical health as well. I've made up my mind—partially due to Alice's overbearing wisdom—and it is not likely to change. It is just not worth the effort it takes me to stay away from you."

"What are you saying?" I asked warily, searching his eyes desperately for something, even I didn't know exactly what I was looking for.

"I'm saying… I'm in love with you Bella. More than in love—you're my existence. You have been ever since you stepped foot into my office that day more than eight months ago. I love you, and if you'll have me, I swear I will spend everyday of my life proving that to you." I… I… was pretty sure I had actually died in that hospital and somehow gotten into heaven. That had to be it. Because this man, this god kneeling in front of me could not be real, his words could not be true. I had to be dead. He stared at me intensely, heating my body with his eyes and his warmth as I tried to fight instinct and convince myself I was definitely still alive. Nothing worked. It wasn't until his expression began to change, shift into hurt and sadness, that I was ripped out of my haze and fully convinced that I was indeed alive—because in my heaven, he would never look anything but perfect happiness. My lips parted, preparing to speak, as soon as my body caught up with my brain. My hand fell to his chest as I slid smoothly off the dining chair and into his crouched lap.

"A-are you sure?" I asked timidly in disbelief, shaking my head softly as we shared breath. Edward's eyes lit up and his lips stretched into a beautiful, crooked smile… and my mind froze all over again. He completely dazzled me. He nodded vehemently, stroking a hand through my hair, brushing it back out of my face as he cradled my head, staring into my eyes.

"We've already established that I'm going to hell… I might as well do it thoroughly." And then he kissed me… and that whole theory of me in heaven thing? Yeah, that totally came back to me.

* * *

_A/N: Okay, here it is. I didn't think I'd be able to get it up today, but your reviews inspired me. So how was this? Tell me, please._


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

_Bella,_

_It's been a long time. I've really missed you this year. Renee says there is a possibility you might be returning home to Phoenix next year. She says you are unhappy in Jacksonville, and might want to come home. I was overjoyed at the news. Junior year has been horrible and life here is not the same without you. We never got a chance to say goodbye. There were some things we should have talked about. I never got to apologize for my behavior our last night, and it has been plaguing my thoughts ever since October. I was considering rectifying that though, this summer. There is a slight possibility that I may be making a trip out to Florida to see you during summer break. I couldn't imagine starting senior year without spending at least one day of summer with my best friend. I know our fight was nasty, but I also know that if I could see you again, and we could just talk, that we'd be able to work things out. I'll let you know whether or not I will be making the trip out to see you soon. _

_Love, _

_Jess_

I sat at the small café table in Edward's breakfast nook, staring sullenly at the old letter, which was still stained with blood and stiff. The flame from the candle flickered before me, lighting up the darkness shining through from the large window. The loft was deadly quiet and empty, though it still felt safe and warm—cozy. It was almost nine at night, and Edward was due back from his parent's house any minute. He'd gone to dinner there, planning on broaching the subject of our relationship for the first time since it'd officially begun last month. He wanted me to meet his family, and I was extremely reluctant—not because I didn't want to, but because I was afraid of their reaction. But after a week straight of both Alice and Edward's convincing wore me down, I agreed to it as long as he prepared them all beforehand. That's what this family dinner tonight was for. He would explain everything to them and they would set a date to meet me. Alice had already dragged Jasper over one night unexpectedly and showed up at my door, pushing us to get acquainted. We did, slowly and shyly, but eventually we both warmed up to each other. He was a very serious, quiet man that held a silent, protective sweetness which I was only aware of due to it surfacing in Alice's presence. Since then, Alice had made it typical to be spending weekend nights together—the four of us. We would hang out at my house, or Edward's loft. But I still hadn't been to their home yet, which was on the outskirts of town. Their house was about fifteen miles from the Cullen's home, which was even further out of the city, in a desolate area of woods and shoreline. Dr. Carlisle and Esme Cullen owned an old Victorian mansion just outside of town, right on a vacant stretch of beach. It was apparently the 'family home' where everyone congregated to during frequent family gatherings.

I shook away my morose thoughts, and held the letter over the flickering candle, setting it aflame. I watched as the ominous letter slowly turned to ash. Edward would say it was a symbolic act of recovery, finally moving on. Destroying the letter, and letting go of the past to free me of my fears and painful remembrance. I figured it was definitely time for this. The constant night terrors that had plagued me for the past year had slowly but surely subsided as I grew accustomed to sleeping beside Edward, in his arms. I knew it was not healthy, using him as my sole healing mechanism, because it made my recovery dependent on him. But I figured that it would work out okay. Edward was just holding my hand, though he was the cause and reason for my healing process. After some time I will be able to keep myself healed and whole without his assistance. Though his absence would surely rip another wound through me, so I was severely counting on his consistency. He promised me eternity, and I knew he would do everything he could to keep that promise.

Renee was due back in a few weeks for my birthday. She was planning a day together, bonding time before she returned to Phil, who was now stationed in Detroit. I was eagerly awaiting my birthday, though I usually hated them, but this one would bring about legality. Edward and I would no longer have to worry about our relationship bringing us legal troubles, which could cause the loss of his practitioner's license and career. When I had first informed Alice that her brother and I were together, she made a grand gesture of approval by sneaking into his office and destroying my file. It was an empty gesture, because it no longer mattered that I had been his patient, though it would do no good to his reputation, it would not become public knowledge. I was glad though, because it seemed to be progress. Alice had been and is still slightly holding a grudge against me for almost killing myself. She was infuriated, and did everything she could to punish me for my idiotic actions. She was almost over it now, but not completely. As for me, well, I no longer held any animosity for Jacksonville, or my home. Mostly because for the past month I've been practically living here at the loft with Edward—some nights we spend at my home, but rarely. I prefer the loft, but Edward says that he enjoys spending time with me in my home, my haven.

I snapped out of my thoughts at the sound of my cell ringing in the bedroom. I had been sitting here at the table since before twilight, so I hadn't bothered to turn on any lights in the loft since it got dark out. I sang along absently to the words of the ringtone Alice had set for herself—_we are Family_—as I crossed the loft, flipping on the light and finding my cell on the bedside table. I thought it was cute, so I didn't bother changing it after she set it. I think she was trying to make a statement for me or something, because she'd been subtly pushing that point for awhile now. She believed I was family. And that was perfectly fine with me. The thought warmed my soul and stretched my lips into a silly grin every time she reminded of what she believed. Edward hadn't once contradicted her. I flipped open the phone and held it to my ear, flopping back onto the bed, and sprawling out sideways.

"Bella, Bella, Bella… I had hoped you would be joining us for dinner tonight. You can imagine how disappointed I was when Edward arrived all by his lonesome." Alice chided, trying to make me feel guilty for not bending to her will. I laughed at Tink.

"Sorry, sweetie, take it up with your brother. I have already negotiated this with him and we have struck a deal. I won't go over it again with you too." I told her lightheartedly, holding my free palm up in front of my face as I lay on my back, facing the ceiling. I examined the subtle mark along my wrist, where the scar tissue puckered ever-so-slightly. The stitches had come out a week after they'd been put in, and the cut was quickly fading into a barely noticeable scar. Alice's petulant sigh brought my attention back to her.

"Fine, fine, what's done is done, I suppose. I have to say though—the parental units are quite excited to meet you. Carlisle remembers you well from the two times you and he encountered each other, and he is eager to get to know you better, learn more about you. It was exactly the same way I felt before we met. I know you and he will get along very well. Father is definitely the kind of man you would enjoy spending time with. And Esme is beside her self with joy. She's sure she already loves you and is eager to begin planning your wedding, preferably but not necessarily with my brother as the groom. Oh, and you are coming over for dinner with me and Jazz tomorrow night, okay?" My mind was still mulling over the word _wedding_ uncertainly when Alice stopped talking, awaiting my confirmation.

"Huh…? Oh yeah, um, sure. Tomorrow night, definitely…" I spoke absently, fiddling with the moonstone silver piece on my ring finger.

"Excellent! I'll pick you up around six."

"Sure… hey, Alice—where's Edward?" I asked curiously. I could hear the traffic on the other line, telling me she was on her way home from the dinner. I heard Jasper faintly in the background making a comment or two.

"He's on his way, Bella. Don't fall into withdrawal or anything." She teased, and I could easily picture her rolling her eyes for her husband's benefit. I scoffed, chuckling at the truth in her tease.

"Alright, I'm going to say goodbye to you before Edward gets home. I'll see you tomorrow Bella." Alice said quickly, hanging up before I could respond. I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling—lost in thought—for awhile before being pulled from my reverie by the sound of the front door opening and closing.

"Bella, you here..?" I smiled at the sound of my angel's voice calling for me from the living room. I was surprised he had to ask. Where else would I be but here waiting for him to return to me? I came out of the bedroom, padding barefoot across the wood floor until I reached the sofa. I slid into his lap on the edge and leaned my back against the arm of the couch. His hand rested on my thigh as the other cradled my neck, guiding me to him for a greeting in the form of a kiss. His lips brushed tantalizingly against mine, surging a desperate yearning through me for more, and my hands threaded in his hair as my elbows rested on his shoulders, upright. I held him to me, deepening the kiss, heatedly.

"Bella…" He murmured against my lips in a frustrated tone. I found that it drove him slightly crazy whenever I would do that. The man tried so hard to keep things chaste, enabling him to stay gentlemanly, and it tore his control to shreds when I would take control, forcing his chasteness to abandonment. I didn't care. I loved Edward's eternal gentleman ways, but that suppressed, passionate ferocity inside him turned me on more than anything in the world. I got soaking wet and suffered tremors just getting small glimpses of the tightly bound beast inside the civilized man before me. I moaned against his mouth as my thoughts permitted my lust for his entirety.

At first, he had been insistent that we do it right from the start, and take things slow. That had lasted all of one week due to my weak will-power. He had soon thrown out the chaste control and given in to his desire. Since our control shattered, we had spent almost every night together, by each other's sides. It physically hurt when I was away from him, and there was no need to be, so we pretty much avoided it like the plague. Now it was just natural to be together—natural… and needed. There really wasn't any other choice anymore. Neither of us could bear being distanced, so we stopped trying. Why try to do what's expected instead of what makes you happy? I'd recently learned to take that to heart, and now, there was no more self-less Bella—at least not when it came to sacrificing my happiness. And I was—finally happy.

"Edward…?" I began with a contented sigh, resting my head against his shoulder as he wrapped his arms tightly around me.

"Hmm…?" My hand slid down to his chest, resting over his heart as I curled into him.

"Will you do something for me tonight?" I asked him. He nodded against me.

"Anything, of course…" He assured me softly, rocking me slightly as he adjusted me more comfortably in his lap.

"Play for me." I ordered softly, locking my arms around his neck. A small smile played on his beautiful lips as he watched me with dark, heated eyes. There was a light behind the darkness that showed his happiness. He nodded, leaning down to press his lips to the curve of my neck for a long moment. Then he pulled back, smoothing his hand down my arm, stopping at my wrist as his fingers found the small unsmooth mark of skin. He eyed it carefully, nodding in approval of the healing he saw occurring steadily. Edward let go of my wrist, allowing it to return to his neck as he scooped me up into his arms and came to his feet. He glided across the floor languidly with cat-like grace, cradling me to him with ease as if I were nothing heavier than his briefcase full of files. He crossed the loft, climbing the spiral staircase, and taking me to the lone armchair on the second floor. He set me down softly on the chair, adjusting me till I was comfortable, and reluctantly pulled away, taking a seat on his piano bench. I watched him closely as he began to play a new composition. It was not anything I recognized, so I knew it was original, but it was not my lullaby either. I sat and listened soothingly as the melody washed over me just as he created it. After a long while, what probably was hours, I got up from the chair, and crossed the room towards him. His long, agile fingers never paused in the sweet melody as I slid softly onto the bench beside him, resting my hand on his shoulder, and my chin on my hand, as I curled into his side. His hand pulled away from the keys for just long enough to wrap around my body, pulling me into his embrace between his arms as they stretched out towards the piano keys.

I moved closer, and he pulled me up onto his lap before continuing his melody. My arms locked around his neck and my head fell to his shoulder as I listened, closing my eyes in comfort. The beautiful, angelic music faded softly into silence as he turned to focus his sole attention on me. He turned me slowly in his lap until I was straddling him comfortably, and he encompassed my body completely. His lips met mine briefly, softly before they trailed down my jaw, to my throat. His hands stroked my hair lovingly, pushing it back from my neck, and the chocolate locks cascaded down my back while his mouth found the pulse point in my neck and sucked softly, teasingly. My fingers dug into his shoulders before gliding over the muscles in his back yearningly. His hands and mouth on me, exploring me, worshipping me—I had never felt more amazing, more beautiful and sexy in my life. I loved it. I loved everything he did to me, made me feel and think and believe and want and need. Everything, absolutely everything about my angel, my love, was too good to be true. Yet, every single day he proved me wrong, showing just how real and truthful his existence was.

"God, I love you." Edward whispered lovingly to me—lips caressing my skin as he spoke. My heart fluttered anxiously and my eyes rolled back into my head, which was leaning back towards the heavens as my body naturally arched into him, seeking more from him.

"Edward!" I yelped yearningly as he gripped my hips, and lifted me up, then dropped me onto the piano with an array of chaotic, melodic notes my body caused. He stood up, moving in between my thighs, and lifted me up once more, perching me on top of the baby grand piano, letting my feet rest on the keys a step below. He pressed himself against me, in between my thighs, and my legs wrapped around his hips, dragging him even closer. His adroit fingers quickly made work of the buttons in his way, and dispensed of my top. I was already fumbling blindly with his belt as he tasted every inch of my mouth, massaging my tongue slowly as his hands grazed over my heated skin, exploring, pleasing, teasing, worshipping.

"I love you." I repeated the truthful sentiment to him as we parted for air, leaving our lips pressed lightly together as we caught our breaths.

"Bella…" Edward began in a suddenly serious tone, pulling his lips away from mine, allowing him to speak. He held my hands in both of his as he stilled my actions, making it possible for him to concentrate on his words. "I want you here with me, officially." I blanched at his words. I pulled back to take in his serious expression. I tried to work out what he meant in my mind, but my thoughts were still too distracted by his closeness. We were still firmly clinging to each other.

"I'm not sure I know what you mean? I am here with you, always and forever. How much more official can it be?"

"Move in… live here… with me." He told me convincingly, rubbing soft circles along my bare skin, sending pleasant tremors up my spine as he tried to charm me into accepting his request. It wasn't needed though. As much of a commitment-phobic as I was, there was no hesitation in my decision. I already spent all of my time here. And the only thing keeping me at that empty house was the few weeks every few months that Renee was home. And I could just stay there with here during those times. I could just keep some things there for when she comes home.

"When...?" I asked certainly, causing a wide, crooked grin to light up his features. His eyes shone with satisfaction, as if he had been worried about my answer.

"Now…" I laughed at his eagerness, pressing my lips to his chastely and locking my arms around his neck. I nodded against his mouth, and his hands wrapped around my waist, lifting me up, with my legs still wrapped around his waist, and started downstairs towards the bedroom.

"Tomorrow…" We murmured in unison during the kiss, laughing as we collapsed onto the bed—our bed. I was perfectly content, happy, and completely satisfied. I had never felt so good or perfect in my life. I just silently prayed that it would never end.

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_A/N: Aw, thank you so much for the reviews, they're love. I love you all. Tell me, should this be the end... or should I continue on?_


	20. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

It was the week before my 18th birthday, and the morning light seemed warm and hopeful, making me believe the day would be one of my better ones. I lay in bed, staring out the window, relaxing comfortably. The man beside me lay sleeping soundly, with his arm flung over my midriff, keeping me pulled into his side as he slept. My hand rested on his chest, and the smooth, rhythmic rising and falling movement of his chest lulled me into a hypnotic state. If I remembered correctly—which I did—today was the day that I met Edward's family. We would be meeting them at the family home for dinner tonight, where I was told the entire family would be gathering. So, not only would I meet his parents for the first time, but also his eldest brother, Emmett, and his wife, Rosalie. Suffice to say, I was terrified. Edward had spent half the night distracting me from my worry, and by the time he had tired me out enough to fall into unconscious exhaustion, my fears were—not quelled—but sufficiently forgotten. Unfortunately for me, the heavenly distraction did not follow me into the morning wake. I could always cajole him from sleep to distract me further, once again, but I really wanted him to get his rest. He hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in a few days. Neither have I for that matter.

I thought back to my conversation last week with Renee. We talked for a few hours over the phone the day before I moved into Edward's loft officially. She was very supportive of our relationship, having seen the effects of my life without Edward already. And she did not wish to see that again. She never found out about my suicide attempt, and it will stay that way. I asked for her permission before moving in with Edward, of course. I knew I didn't need it, and would move in with him either way, but I felt it was the right thing to do to ask, making sure she was okay with it. She had been hesitant—after all—I am her only daughter, and 17. It was sort of a major taboo, this situation. I was living with my older boyfriend, while I was underage, who used to be my psychologist… definitely taboo. But I assured her that I would continue life just as it was, and would stay at the house while she was home. She'd eventually agreed, and was satisfied once I'd promised she could meet Edward the next time she returned home. The next day—Alice, Jasper, Edward, and I moved in my things. He gave me half the closet, and Alice bought me a bureau of my own to go with his as a house-warming gift. Edward even gave up space on his bookshelves for me—which was a big gesture. We had a problem though, fitting all of our toiletries together in the bathroom, so after an hour of arguing over it, we finally decided to come up with a solution that would not force either of us to compromise. We went straight to Lowe's, and bought two matching vanity cabinets to replace the long mirror above the parallel marble sinks. And it was as simple as that. Though the final touch of moving in was when Alice dragged me out shopping and we stocked the kitchen with everything I would need to do serious cooking continuously, because that was about the only thing Edward's home lacked.

I carefully removed his arm from my waist, and slipped silently out of bed. I would have made it out of the bedroom without waking him if I had possessed proper depth perception, and hadn't hit my toe on the doorframe. I yelped in pain, holding my foot up behind me off the ground as I gripped the doorframe for support. Edward mumbled under his breath as he tossed to the side, groggily lifting his eyelids to find the source of his wakefulness. He saw me standing in the doorway, muttering curses to myself, and gingerly holding my foot off the ground, and immediately broke out into an amused, crooked smirk. It was quite smug. I glared at him as he chuckled at my clumsiness.

"Oh shove it." I muttered grudgingly, abandoning my stealthy exit and returning to bed, slipping back under the covers. I climbed over to his side of the bed, crawled over him, and plopped down on his chest, propping my chin on his chest as I looked up at him. His chin pressed against his chest at an acute angle, propped sharply up against the array of pillows on our bed, and rested his hands on the small of my back. He took a piece of wavy locks and twirled it in his fingers absently beside my face, before tucking it behind my ear. His hand cupped my chin, drawing me up his body until our lips met. He held me there still for a moment before allowing me to pull away, and return to my spot on his bare chest. His skin was warm and soft, and his heartbeat comforted me.

"Good morning." He told me quietly.

"Good morning." I mimicked, sliding up his body once again, only this time holding myself up on my knees, pressed on either side of his hips, as I sat on his lap, pressing my fingertips into the skin of his chest. Edward's hips arched upwards, creating blissful friction between us as his fingers gripped my waist firmly. His morning hardness aroused my senses almost immediately, making my every nerve-ending acutely aware of his presence. I moaned into his mouth, and felt him smile in masculine pride against my lips. I pulled back, arching my body and leaning backwards on his lap, increasing the pressure between us. My eyes rolled into the back of my head and my lips fell parted in pleasure as I moaned silently. Edward closed his eyes, strained with self-control, holding himself back as I rubbed against him. His hips arched again, causing my grip to slacken as my knees went weak and my muscles turned to useless tissue. Edward sat up in bed, catching me by the waist before I fell backwards completely, and held me to him, wrapping his arms around me—similar to a bear hug—to keep me upright. My forehead fell against his, and our lips met in rapid succession as we moved against each other, slowly at first, but the higher the pressure built, the more frantically tinged our movements became.

"_Christ_, good morning." I repeated lamely in disbelieving acme. I bounced slowly up and down against him, and he moved with me, increasing pressure. I didn't notice him reaching his breaking point as he tore my flimsy excuse for underwear off, and shoved his boxers aside until I felt him entering me hurriedly. He caught himself, slowing and forcing his movements gentler. I came down on him hard, skipping the adjustment phase and pushing aside his gentlemanly ways in favor of frantic ecstasy. My hand planted on the bed behind us as my body arched painfully into him. He thrust up into me torturously slow, holding onto my hips to still me, allowing him to set the pace. I reached my peak of ecstasy before him, climaxing violently. My body shuddered in pleasure as Edward released into me, groaning my name through his climax. He drew out my orgasm as long as he could before I had to stop him—not able to stand anymore—and collapsed onto him limply. Edward fell back in bed, pinning me to his chest as my eyes fluttered tiredly. Our chests heaved in unison as my breasts pressed flat against his hot chest. My thoughts briefly flickered to the packet of birth control in the vanity cabinet in the bathroom, but I quickly dismissed my concern. I always remember to take the pill every night. When we first made this official we discussed it. Edward had been worrying about that first night we had spent together. In our passion, we completely forgot about protection. I assured him I had been on the pill since I was 15—not because I was preparing for sex, but because I had an irregular flow in my menstrual cycle and the pill helped even out my hormones and stabilize my period. We try to use condoms most of the time, but we often forget them in our hasty desire. After the attack though, I got checked out for everything, just to be sure. And Edward assured me he had himself tested since the last time he had slept with anyone, and he was clean. Normally, I wouldn't have just taken a man's word for it—I learned better from my mother's many boyfriends. But this was Edward. I trusted him explicitly.

"I love you, Bella." He panted out to me heavily, and I turned my face, pressing my lips evenly against his chest in a dry kiss. I moaned softly in euphoria as we lay together. After awhile, we moved to the shower, starting our slow process of beginning the day. After an hour in the shower, we skipped out quickly as the water heater failed and we were soaked in freezing temperatures. I picked up the clothes strewed out on the floor of the bedroom, shaking away the remorse that washed over me at the sight of my lace panties ripped at the seam. That was the second pair this week. I'd spoken with him about that, but he just blew it off—saying that if I was going to complain about my lingerie, he would have to buy out _Victoria's Secret_ for me. I insisted he do no such thing, and resorted to buying knock-offs instead. We quickly dressed and went out for breakfast at his favorite Bistro down the road from the loft before stopping by Alice and Jasper's place. I'd promised Alice we would spend the day with her before going to their parent's house for dinner in the evening. Alice thought that a way to make dinner tonight easier for me was to let me get to know the family one step at a time. Since the only ones I had yet to know were Emmett and Rosalie, and Carlisle and Esme, she arranged for Em and Rose to spend the day at her house with us before we all made a trip to the family home for dinner with Carlisle and Esme. I was extremely appreciative.

I walked into the house a few steps ahead of Edward, and was greeted by Alice exuberantly at the door, where she dragged me quickly through the house and out onto the back deck that looked out over the shore. Jasper was down on the shore of the beach with a gigantic looking Hulk of a brunette man, wrestling playfully together. A blonde goddess-like creature was perched on the railing of the deck, watching the two men rough-house with a look of enjoyment. Alice dragged me over to the blonde—who I assumed was Rosalie—as Edward trailed slowly behind us. Rosalie spun on the railing gracefully, and hopped off onto her feet to greet me.

"Rose, this is Bella, Bella-Rosalie." Alice barked chirpily, pointing in between the two of us. Rosalie eyed me blatantly, trailing her gaze appraisingly over me with a look of judgmental distaste. I steeled myself for a disguised insult—because I thought I knew her type—but it never came. Instead, she just shook my hand with a strong grip from her soft, manicured hands, tossed her blonde spirals over her shoulder haughtily, and turned back towards the two men on the beach. I shrugged it off with indifference, already knowing our relationship would not be a close one. Edward appeared behind me, resting his hand comfortingly on my back. He leaned into my ear over my shoulder.

"She's always like that. Just ignore her, I do." He told me under his breath. I nodded, sending him a small smile before allowing Alice to drag me down the deck steps, towards her husband and brother. Edward and Rosalie stood by the railing on the deck, watching us. As we neared the two wrestling men, they broke apart, and acknowledged us for the first time since I arrived. Emmett looked between me and Alice questioningly before gluing his gaze to me, and raking his eyes over me appraisingly, just as his wife had. Only, instead of her distaste, he broke out into a wide, goofy grin, excited and approving of whatever he saw, and leapt towards me. I held back a flinch as the Hulk man rushed towards me as if he were planning to tackle me. I braced myself for impact, and the Hulk skidded to a stop inches before colliding fatally with me. His bulky, structured arms wrapped around me in a huge bear hug, lifting me high off my feet as he shook me back and forth like a rag-doll. I laughed with him, enjoying whatever it was he was doing, and trying to ignore my decreasing limit of oxygen.

"Em, please don't break my girlfriend." Edward shouted to his older brother from behind us in a half-serious, half-joking manner. "She's rather fragile, so please be gentle." I rolled my eyes to myself at Edward's words, and Emmett laughed at my reaction, holding me by the shoulders out from his body to examine me closely. My feet were hovering inches above the ground still as he held me up in front of him. I cracked a smile for him, raising my brow and looking pointedly between him and the ground. He got the message, and gently sat me on my feet.

"Bella…" He barked loudly, in a joyous voice that held a child-like element of excitement to it. "It suits you. You look like a Bella; my new baby sister." He commented proudly, and eyed me once more before adding—"Perfect." Satisfied with his greeting, he released me from his stone-like grasp and crossed his arms over his chest, unknowingly accentuating his muscles. Jasper appeared beside him, stepping in front of his brother-in-law and embracing me hesitantly in a soft hug. He stepped back to join his wife's side, who was watching me excitedly, nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet with delight. She obviously enjoyed watching Emmett and I interact. The four of us returned to the deck and Rosalie clung to her husband's side possessively, marking her territory with a sharp glare my way that made the message perfectly clear. After the initial warning though, she moved on, and her flash of jealousy subsided. The rest of the day was spent barbecuing on the deck and playing on the beach. Emmett kept coming up to me, grabbing me from behind, and laughing boisterously as I jumped, startled. The eldest Cullen sibling found me immensely entertaining. The men went to play football on the beach as Alice, Rosalie, and I camped out on the deck patio table with a deck of cards, playing B.S. Rosalie enjoyed it because my exceedingly bad poker face and Alice was just ecstatic every time Rosalie and I would talk or even argue light-heartedly over something miscellaneous. Alice caught me every time, slapping her hands down over-zealously and shouting—bullshit! I had a really good time, feeling strangely comfortable around them all.

When it was time to gather at the parent's home for dinner, Edward rode with Alice and Jasper because Emmett absolutely insisted I ride with him and Rosalie. Rose drove as Emmett sat turned in his seat, watching me in the backseat the whole way there. We talked, and we joked around easily together, and even got Rosalie to crack a smile occasionally. I was very sure that I was already considered a part of the family to both Alice and Emmett. The feeling was absolutely wonderful, and Emmett's company made every fear and anxiousness I was feeling concerning meeting Esme and Carlisle completely forgotten. He threw me over his shoulder jokingly and rushed into the house, when we made it there before the others. He passed through an elegant looking foyer and rushed into the massive, warm-feeling living room. He tossed me back, setting me roughly on my feet and steadying me before releasing me from his grasp. He didn't move away, and stood beside me as Carlisle and a beautiful auburn-haired woman appeared from the dining room to greet me. Rosalie trailed behind us, taking a seat casually on one of the Victorian sofas as Emmett glanced excitedly between me and his parents. He threw an arm casually over my shoulder, leaning into me until I sunk into the floor. It was obvious to me the similarities between Alice and Emmett.

"Ma, Dad… meet Bella." Emmett said, gesturing as if he were proudly presenting me to his family like a prize. Carlisle smiled softly, regarding me with curiously quiet eyes. Esme took a step forward, reaching out towards me tentatively. Her smile was bright, overjoyed, and anxious and her light eyes were warm. I resisted the urge to shrink back timidly into Emmett's side as she advanced on me. Her eyes comforted my shyness, and I took a step to meet her, timidly returning her gentle hug. She held me firmly but gently and pressed her face into my hair.

"Thank you for coming, Bella. You have no idea how wonderful it is to finally meet you." Esme whispered intensely to me before releasing me and stepping back to her husband's side. Carlisle gave me a respectful nod, which I returned, and after the pleasantries, we all took seats around the living room. Emmett insisted I sit in between him and Rosalie. Edward, Alice, and Jasper came in shortly after that while I acquainted myself with Carlisle and Esme. We all moved to the dining room for dinner. After dinner, we all returned to the living room with coffee. By the end of the night, I was exhausted, and feeling satisfyingly comfortable. Edward's family was wonderful, just as great as he was. And they all made me feel extremely welcome. There were a few awkward moments when Carlisle found me alone and asked hesitantly about how I was doing since my last hospital visit, and I assured him everything was really good now, but he didn't mention anything in front of the others, and made me feel very comfortable with him. Alice and Jasper drove Edward and I back to their house, and we hung out for awhile while the two men played a game of chess and Alice trapped me in her bedroom to discuss my clothing and our next shopping trip. Edward and I went home not long after that, and we settled in for the night on the sofa with a book as he read to me. I lied on his chest, snuggled under blankets with pillows around us as his velvety voice lulled me to sleep. I vaguely woke to register Edward carrying me to bed, but didn't bother opening my eyes. I curled into bed as Edward pressed himself against my back and held an arm securely around my waist. The last thought that crossed my mind was—this is perfect.

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_A/N: I have the ending in mind and soon, but I'm starting to lose steam... maybe some reviews will pick me up and rejuvenate my excitement..._


	21. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

_The sun was bright and harsh, blinding my sensitive eyes and heating my skin to an uncomfortable degree. It made the space before me seem obtrusive and wrong somehow. The desert stretched on forever. It was the only thing I could see, the only place I could go. There was no escape, no change. What once brought up nostalgic comfort and thoughts of safety and home, now seemed like nothing more than a vast wasteland with no way to escape. I missed the sand and the green plant-life and the ocean breeze. I missed my escape, my safe haven. I never thought it would be this way. It was complete irony, polar opposite from what I always expected. I missed the soft melody that lulled me into contentedness. It had now been replaced by a deafening silent heat that stretched out over the demanding desert. I heard distant howling from afar, but nowhere in sight was there any life around me. I spun in circles, seeking my escape, my comfort, my haven, but it was nowhere to be found. I tripped over my own feet, falling to the sharp, hot ground, and scraping my hands and knees. I turned over onto my back before sitting up, scrunching my knees to my chest. The harsh sunlight seemed to mock me in my lonely hopelessness. I cursed it and its brightness, wishing it would fade away. Then a shadow was cast over me, blocking the sun's path from reaching me. I looked up into bright, ocean blue eyes that screamed of love and happiness—but I knew that was just a masquerade that even the eyes themselves were tricked into believing. Jess smiled down at me with that look of expectant patience, as he saw 'Klutzy Bella' once again making a fool of her self by tripping over her own feet at the worst possible time. I used to find comfort in that look, knowing he understood me fully, and had patience for my gracelessness, and didn't think less of me because of it. Now I found it cruel and mocking. _

"_Hey Bells, long time no see. I've missed you."_

"_Jessie…" I scooted backwards slowly, keeping my wary gaze on him. He followed my movements with small steps towards me. I wanted to get up, to run, to find my haven, but I knew if I tried, I would just trip and humiliate myself even further. Jessie bent over, reaching down towards me, and I cringed away. _

"_You're mine…" He whispered possessively. Just as his fingers grazed over my cheek, the sun faded into a full moon, and the harsh light turned to soft, welcoming darkness. The jagged desert sand shifted into the grainy softness of the shoreline, and the deafening, mocking desolate silence was chased away by the soft melody of the ocean waves crashing against the shore. Jess was blanketed in darkness, shielding me from his mocking eyes. My haven emerged from the darkness behind me, crouching down and pressing his chest against my back solidly, wrapping a granite arm around my shoulders. His embrace chased away Jess's touch, and the monster receded from the darkness, retreating with the fading light and the harsh sun. My angel's lips pressed against the shell of my ear as we basked in the haven of night and shore._

"_They will never hurt you again. I won't allow it. Stay with me, for eternity." He whispered to me, holding me against him relentlessly, refusing to release me from his embrace. I didn't mind. I clung to his arm, keeping it in place around me. The darkness of night faded, along with the ocean sounds and the sand beneath us. The man behind me, wrapping me in his embrace did not fade though. He was the one constant figure that never faded, never abandoned. _

I woke slowly, like escaping a dream that didn't want to let you go. The soft light seeped in through the closed drapes in the bedroom as I lay on my back in the center of the large bed, propped up slightly against him. Edward had me leaning fully against his chest as he sat behind me, leaning against the headboard. His legs were on either side of me, encasing my body with his own protectively as he held me, stroking my hair as if to soothe a small child.

"I'm sorry." I apologized softly, figuring I must have caused a ruckus in my sleep. Occasionally my dreams woke him, and he had to cajole me awake with comfort. It had been happening less and less lately, but once in awhile my subconscious was afflicted by my suppressed nightmares.

"Don't be. You have nothing to be sorry for." He told me firmly in a soft voice as he spoke against my hair. I brought his hand up from my waist, kissing his palm and letting my eyes close in serenity against him. He nuzzled his nose in my hair, and his hot breath tickled the coolness of my skin. His cheek brushed softly against my neck as he stroked my hair. I leaned backwards, turning my head, and pressing my lips to his in a slow, languid kiss full of passion and comfort, but most of all—gratitude.

"Don't ever leave me." I whispered intensely against his lips with my eyes still closed from the kiss. I breathed his intoxicating scent in as deeply as I could, relishing in the feeling that spread through me. Edward's arm around my waist tightened as his other hand cradled the side of my face. His lips pressed softly against my forehead.

"Never…" He uttered promisingly, rocking me. He turned me in his arms until my chest was pressed against his, and I wrapped my arms around him tightly. He cradled my face gently, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Bella, I could never lose you. I'd never leave you. You're mine… today, tomorrow, and ever after. That will never change."

"Ever after…" I repeated thoughtfully, mostly to myself. Edward watched me closely as I considered his words carefully. _'You're mine… Ever after…'_ God, I hope so.

"What would make you truly believe that?" He asked me, rubbing his hands up and down my bare arms as I lied on his chest. I smiled softly, shaking my head dismissively. I leaned up, pressing my lips to his for a moment before pulling back, and turning my head to the side, resting my cheek against his chest and closing my eyes. I was jostled slightly as he reached over me towards the nightstand. He pulled something out of the drawer, and returned to me holding something small in his hand. He pulled me up, so that I was sitting upright on his lap. My hands rested on his shoulders as I watched him curiously. He gripped my hand in his, and quickly captured my lips in a heated kiss, stealing my breath and leaving me dizzy. Everything around me disappeared as he kissed me heatedly, and I tangled my free hand in his hair, holding him close. Edward suddenly pulled back, abruptly ending the kiss prematurely, and released my hand. I was so distractedly blinded as I stared into his wondrous eyes, that he had to lift my hand up to my face to get my attention. I caught sight of my hand, and my eyes went wide. On my ring finger, where my moonstone ring used to rest, was an elegant diamond, surrounded by two smaller moonstone pieces, on a silver band with intricate Celtic patterns ingrained in it. My mouth fell open as I scrambled for my voice. My shocked gaze transitioned rapidly between Edward's face and the ring.

"What… Edward…?" Was pretty much all I could manage to croak out. Edward took my hand between both of his, and slid the ring off smoothly, displaying the inside of the band to me.

_Ever After, My beautiful Bella_

The inscription was in small ancient script, circling the inside of the band. I swear I nearly fainted from shock and disbelief. This just couldn't be real. My nightmare must have turned into a dream—a heavenly dream. I felt Edward's hand caress the curve of my neck, brushing a lock of hair over my shoulder.

"Marry me… You're mine, Bella. I'm never letting you go. I just want to make it official." His melodic voice washed over me, and his lips caressed my palm, which was still facing him as I held my hand up, staring incredulously at the beautiful ring. The beautiful _engagement_ ring… _my _beautiful engagement ring. This has got to be a dream. My eyes were drawn towards Edward as he kissed me chastely, prodding me out of my shock. The look in his beautiful eyes was a mixture of joy, love, possessiveness, and worried anxiousness. It was amazing. His touch convinced me I was indeed awake, and I knew that my silence was making him anxious. I didn't want that hurt, disappointed look to come back to him. I never wanted to see that look again. But as I tried to speak, I realized I didn't know what to say. Marry him? Of course I wanted to marry him… eventually. That had always been my plan, my dream. But… marriage… now? I just wasn't sure. I needed to think. I have to consider this from all angles. I couldn't just trust my impulse and shout out—_yes, of course, always, forever, ever after… never let me go_! No I couldn't do that—that would be ridiculous. So I kissed him, and then pulled back so I had a chance to think properly and not have the brain power of an imbecile, like I did whenever he touched me.

"Edward, are you serious?" I regretted the words as soon as they passed my lips, especially with the look he gave me, but I just had to ask. He didn't dignify my question with a response, so I moved on. "Right, of course you are. I… I mean I just… I want… I want more than anything… to just say yes." I assured him. He smiled encouragingly, but remained guardedly silent, awaiting my next words. He could already see where I was going with this.

"Give me till midnight. Please, I just need enough time to draw back and see things clearly. I promise, midnight rolls by and I'll tell you yes. I just need a little time." I told him carefully. I didn't want to see that disappointed look in his eyes, and I knew it was coming. But instead of looking hurt, he just smiled patiently, nodding his head affirmatively in understanding, and tightened his grip around my waist. He leaned in, kissing me for all his worth. I clung to him as he used his lips and tongue to make me dizzy, stealing my breath—quite literally—once again. He pulled back slightly after a few minutes, leaving his lips just barely caressing mine, and pressed his forehead to mine intimately.

"Of course, my love… midnight is the least I can give you. Now, you better go get ready. Your mother's flight should be arriving soon." He told me calmly, pressing a kiss to my head before lifting me off his lap, and placing my feet on the ground beside the bed carefully. I smiled, about to turn around and head towards the bathroom when his hand caught my wrist, spinning me around towards him. He leaned up on his knees on the edge of the bed, and slid the diamond ring back onto my finger slowly while his eyes watched my expression cautiously, silently asking for permission. I nodded encouragingly, enjoying the sight of his ring on my hand. He took my other hand, and slid my moonstone ring onto it, then turned me around by my shoulders, pointing me in the direction of the bathroom. He kissed my neck from behind, and whispered in my ear.

"And Bella… happy birthday." He breathed contently against my neck, pushing me gently towards the bathroom. I disappeared, hopping into the shower, and starting off my day with racing thoughts and an overjoyed smile stretching my lips that I was utterly unable to remove. I had to spend the day with Renee, who I was picking up from the airport in an hour. But then I would be meeting Edward back at home that night for a birthday dinner. I rushed to get ready, and when I went out to the kitchen to grab my keys and coat, I found Edward waiting to hand me a piece of toast I could munch on as I raced to make it to the airport in time. I was halfway there, worrying that I would be late, when I received a text message from Renee.

_Bells, flight delayed. I'll take cab, meet u at home. Love Mom._

So she finally learned how to text—that's surprising. I slowed my rushed speed, and turned direction, heading towards mom's house. I guess I didn't have to worry about being late then. I made it to the house quickly, unlocking the door and opening up the drapes in the living room. I had closed up the house pretty thoroughly when I moved in with Edward. I hadn't been back to the house since then. Everything was just as I'd left it. Or I thought it was, until I returned to my bedroom and found that something was seriously off about it. I couldn't quite place the feeling, so I began looking around. I noticed the clothes I'd left in the closet for the times I'd sleepover with Renee were all thrown on the floor, instead of on hangers. I checked the desk drawer, and found a stack of letters tied together. There must have been at the very least twenty letters there. I sat on the bed, momentarily forgetting my wrong feeling, and started examining the letters. They were all unmarked besides one word written neatly in black ink on every one of the envelops. _Bella_—was all it said. My heartbeat increased dramatically as that feeling of wrongness swept over me stronger than before. I hesitantly ripped open the first letter, pushing down the feeling of dread sinking in.

Before I got to the words written on the paper, I felt someone approach from behind me, and realized my back was facing the door. I was a second away from jumping up off the bed, but I felt a heavy bluntness brutally slam into the back of my head. That was the last thing my mind registered before unconsciousness swept over me and the darkness emerged.

…

My head hurt. That was all I was aware of as my vision blurred and the black spots slowly cleared away when I opened my eyes groggily. My head really hurt. The sharp throbbing was worse than any headache I had ever had before. When I found out what happened… I remembered something strange—something about danger and dread. I could recall the feelings, but everything else was a blank. I was reading something, in my old room, and then everything went dark. I moved, trying to push myself up from where I was lying crumpled on the floor. I looked around, noticing that it was dark all around, but I was still in my old room. The light that had been shining through the window was replaced by a dark glow from the stars and moon. Damn, how long had I been out? I groaned lowly in pain as I propped myself up weakly against the wall. I was lying on the floor in the corner of the room. I scanned my surroundings slowly, and noticed the dark figure leaning against the door to the room not five feet away from me. My muscles tensed and my thoughts froze in panic as I comprehended my exact situation.

"Happy birthday, Bells." He said menacingly.

"Jessie?" I asked cautiously, peering over at the still figure. He laughed lowly, bitterly, and pushed away from the door, walking across the room, and crouching in front of me.

"Hello, Bella."

"What are you doing here?" I asked in an unwavering voice, surprising myself as I narrowed my eyes at him and crossed my arms over my chest defensively.

"Oh, I've been here awhile now, watching, waiting. I came to see my best friend… but when I got here, and saw you with that _leech_, I knew something had to be done." Leech…? Did he mean Edward? Jesus Christ, what the hell has been going on? How did I not notice him following me? I sat up straighter, refusing to cower down underneath him.

"You have no right to anything here, Jess. You're not a part of my life anymore. I thought I'd made that clear before I left Phoenix."

"Don't be ridiculous Bells. I'll always be a part of your life. You're mine… always have been, always will be. We're meant for each other. I know it, and you know it. I just have to make you see that." I got scared… really scared. But I couldn't let him have the satisfaction of seeing it. I stayed steadfast and unyielding, keeping control of myself. Because I did have control, no one but me had control of me. That was not going to change. He inched forward slowly, brushing his knuckles along my cheek caressingly, sending disgusted shivers down my spine. He took my reaction wrongly.

"I told you, you'd see it. You'll see it. As soon as that pervert is out of the way, things will go back to the way they're supposed to be." Oh god. My mind screamed out at me and my body coiled in terror as I realized what he meant.

"Jess, you stay away from him! He has nothing to do with this!" My words caused him to snap, and his soothing façade cracked with rage. His hand tightened around the curve of my neck, holding me painfully in place to meet his gaze.

"That guy is sick, Bells. He's manipulated you, and turned you into his little whore! You don't see things clearly right now, you're sick. But I'll help you. I'll make it better. And he won't ever touch you again." Silent tears slid down my face as I held on to my calm with a death-grip. His bruising grip on me would definitely leave a mark, but that pain was nothing compared to the pain and fear inside as I repressed screaming out in panic at the thought of Jess going after Edward. The last time he'd seen me with another guy; the night had ended horrendously and scarred me for life. I couldn't let anything happen to Edward. Then another horrible thought occurred to me, and my gaze snapped back up to Jess.

"Where's my mom?" I asked him. It was dark out now. Renee should have gotten home by now. God, what if he… I stopped thinking before I could finish that thought. I needed to keep it together.

"Don't worry, Bells. Renee is just fine. You see, I picked her up from the airport this morning, and explained the situation to her, thinking she could help me talk some sense into you. Of course, then I realized that he has her just as brainwashed as he has you. So I had to get her out of the way until I could get through to you. Once you're better, we'll straighten Renee's thoughts out." I calmed slightly, believing he wouldn't have hurt her. I had to believe that she was safe somewhere. I just had to. I just hoped that he hadn't already gotten to Edward while I was unconscious.

"Jess, where is she?" I demanded.

"In the trunk of my car, outside. Don't worry Bells, she'll be fine." I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Jess," I began calmly, attempting to reason with him. "Edward isn't what you think he is. Yes, he is older than us, but he did not trick me into anything. I pursued him." His fists clenched at his sides, and I quickly back-pedaled, realizing I'd taken the wrong path. "I was confused. I was just lonely." I played along, attempting to placate him. There would be no dissuading him from his rage against Edward. But if I could get him less angry with me, I might be able to find an opportunity to escape and warn Edward. Jess nodded in agreement at my words, and I noticed his muscles relax slightly.

"You're not happy here Bella. You're coming back to Phoenix with me, where you belong. You'll be happy there." I nodded carefully, pushing myself up slowly, and he followed. I leaned against the wall for support when dizziness swept over me. Jess turned around, reaching the desk. I took my chance, and began slowly creeping around him towards the door inconspicuously. He picked up the stack of letters, cradling them in his hands carefully.

"I wrote you one letter for each week you were away. You can read them on the way home. Get packed." He spoke with his back to me, and turned just as my hand reached out towards the doorknob. "Where are you going?" He snapped suspiciously, striding across the room and gripping my elbow to keep me in place.

"I'm going to go get a suitcase from mom's room." I lied on the spot convincingly. I used to be a horrible liar. But experience has helped me improve that ability. He watched me cautiously for a moment, searching my eyes for the truth, before slowly nodding and releasing my arm. I left my old bedroom, crossing the hall towards Renee's room as I felt him following close behind me. I forewent the light and crossed the room in the semi-darkness, opening up her closet. I searched for anything that could possibly allow my escape, and came up with nothing. So I got extremely resourceful in my desperation. I reached up on my toes to grab the duffel bag on the shelf above, and used my other hand sneakily, hidden by my body, and grabbed a vacant wire hanger. I used the duffel bag to block his view as I bent the wire to a point. I emerged from the closet, hiding my newly improved weapon behind the duffel, and passed slowly by him. Jess hesitated a moment before turning to follow me, allowing me a spare second to spin back around, and jam the end of the wire into his shoulder from behind with all my strength. I knew it wouldn't hurt him badly, but might give me a chance to get away.

Jess yelled out in pain and surprise, spinning around to face me, outraged, while gripping his shoulder. I made a run for it as he reached behind him to pull out the wire protruding his flesh. I only made it to the top of the stairs before he caught up with me, slamming into me from behind. I spun around as I lost my balance, grabbed his forearm, and dragged him with me as we tumbled down the staircase. I felt my neck snap at a painful angle as it hit against the edge of a stair on the way down. My leg bent backwards painfully, shattering or spraining something major as we rolled. My elbow hit his jaw, bruising my soft skin, and with my hurt leg bent and pinned under his body as I landed on top of him at the bottom of the stairs. I popped up quickly, holding myself up off of him with my hands planted on the ground. Jess's eyes were shut and his face was a mask of pain. I rolled him roughly, forcing him off of me so I could get my leg out from under him. I yelped in pain when I forced my leg to straighten. Jess's eyes fluttered open with a groan as I used the railing to pull myself up to my feet. I took a step before his hand wrapped around my ankle, trying to yank me back to him. I kicked out, landing a solid blow to his jaw, and stumbled over his struggling body, limping up the stairs as fast as I could. In my panic and hurry, I had retreated from him, instead of making it over his body and heading towards the door. Later on, I was sure I would kick myself for running back up the stairs. But right now, I couldn't think. I was running on pure adrenaline.

I limped up the stairs and down the hall. I heard him behind me, and raced past the doors, reaching the ladder for the attic. I jumped up, catching the string, and dragged it down. I dragged myself desperately up the ladder, and pulled it up with all my strength, snapping it shut just as he reached up to grab it. I snapped the rusted lock in place and jumped up to my feet, looking around frantically for an escape. The balcony across the room lead out to above the driveway, but it was too high to jump. I searched the cluttered attic for some kind of defensive weapon, finding nothing useful.

Jess shouted up to me, cursing and taunting me angrily as he banged against the wooden slab of protection that was our only barrier. I wanted to cry, or scream, or just fling myself off the balcony and hope I survived. But I forced myself to hold together—for Renee… for Edward. I had to find my mom, and make sure she was alright. I had to tell her the truth, and explain what happened, what I've been through, and how I was saved. I had to make sure she knew that I was finally happy. And Edward—I had to see Edward again. I made him a promise, and I was going to keep it no matter what I had to do. Besides, it was almost midnight, I could feel it. And when midnight arrived, I needed to tell him that there was nothing more in this world that I wanted than to be his wife. I would tell him, I would keep my promise.

Just as my resolve was set, the rusted lock shattered and the door fell down brokenly, letting the ladder fall down towards the second floor. A second later, Jess was emerging from the top of the ladder, glaring furiously at me. I'd seen that same look in his eyes before, last summer in Phoenix, when he changed my life forever. I backed away from him, unable to tear my gaze away as he advanced. I was backed up against the wall beside the glass door to the balcony, and feeling like a cornered, helpless, wild animal. My fingers clenched, nails biting into the skin of my palm as I faced off with him, refusing to relent and cower. I stood tall despite my terror. My determination helped me stay strong. Jess ran towards me suddenly, about to collide with my small, frail frame. My thoughts stopped and my instincts kicked in just as he reached me, crashing into me. I tilted my body to the side, shoving us both, using the momentum he gave me, and his back crashed into the glass, shattering it as we flew past it. Jess crashed through the wooden railing, splintering it off, and fell over the edge. He gripped the edge of the balcony before it was too late, and as I tried to skid to a stop and gain my balance before I followed him over, his hand wrapped around my ankle again. He yanked my foot out from under him. My ass hit the hard ground of the balcony, and my palms pressed against the ground to keep me steady. The jagged pieces of shattered glass cut my skin, ripping it open in small stinging slits.

Jess lost his grip on the edge, pulling me with him, and I slid forward against the ground, closer to the edge. He would slip and I would go over with him, I knew it. My hands reached out behind me, grasping at nothing, clawing at the jagged ground to try to pull myself back. I was slipping, but before I could go all the way over, a pair of strong arms as solid as granite wrapped around me in a bear hug position, firmly holding me back from the edge. My chest loosened its tightness, and I could finally breathe again. I felt relief wash over me immediately at the feel of Edward's immovable embrace enveloping me. He pushed out, using his foot to my side to land a hard kick to Jess's jaw, wrenching his hands away from my ankle and sending him falling towards the ground.

"Edward!" I breathed out unbelievably—my voice soaked in misery, comfort, relief, terror, and contentment. Every emotion and intensity I'd been holding back washed over me as if a dam had broken, and I felt fresh tears of extreme relief wash down my cheeks. I knew everything would be alright now. I was safe… I was with Edward. I faintly registered the antique grandfather clock in the corner behind some boxes resound through the room like a bell, signaling the clock striking twelve. I laughed out in relief and happiness, ignoring Edward's strained expression. His face was a mixture of severe fury, protectiveness, worry, and panic. His eyes roamed over me desperately, searching for any major injuries, reassuring himself that I was okay. His arms around me didn't loosen, as he still clung to me, keeping me in the protective circle of his strong arms, like that was the only way to convince himself I was safe and here with him. I craned my neck around to face him, still keeping my back pressed firmly to his chest. My hands came up, grabbing the sides of his face, and pulling him to me in a frenzied, passionate kiss. We broke apart gasping for breath, and I laughed joyously, panting against his lips as I barked out laughingly with intense urgency.

"Yes! I'll marry you—now, next time, and eternity."

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_A/N: Alright, here it is. The end. There will be an epilogue soon. Tell me please, how was it?_


	22. Epilogue

**~Unsanctioned Savior~**

**Epilogue**

Happy first anniversary—was what the slip of paper inside the first edition leather bound copy of Jane Eyre said. I smiled lovingly at the neat scripture on the slip as I admired the amazing book. I glanced up, trying for the hundredth time to see out the tinted window of the carriage. I glanced to my side where Edward sat—his fingers laced with mine. He brought our joined hands up to his lips and kissed the back of my hand. I couldn't believe it had been a whole year since the wedding. It seemed like it had been just last month that we'd taken our honeymoon in Ireland.

Both Jess and Marcus were still rotting in jail, and Charlie flew in from Washington to walk me down the isle. Renee and Phil sat in the front row of our small family wedding on the beach. Edward and I stood under an archway laced with honeysuckle and jasmine with Carlisle before us. He had himself ordained as a minister in order to perform the ceremony himself. Esme and Rosalie stood by my side as bridesmaids, and Alice was my maid of honor, keeping my nerves together all through the preparations. Emmett and Jasper stood behind Edward as the best men. It had been the epitome of perfection, and the ceremony ended just after Twilight. I took a semester after graduation to myself, and Edward and I spent the time in Ireland, renting a small house on the shore in the rolling hills. It was the best time of my life. When we'd returned to Jacksonville, I'd enrolled in the local university, majoring in Literature and taking philosophy as my minor. I had finished my freshmen year of college just two months ago, and Edward had taken me back to Ireland for our anniversary. We rode in the back of a closed-in carriage he had rented, leading me somewhere for the surprise he'd been waiting to reveal to me for over four months. The carriage stopped moving, and Edward leaned over me, unlocking my carriage door.

"Wait here." He ordered, sliding out his side of the carriage. I heard him talking to the driver, and then the purr of a car engine before it drove off. We were alone… excellent. I waited impatiently, tapping my fingers on my thigh as I listened to Edward round the carriage and stop in front of my door. The door opened, and Edward beckoned me out of the carriage, holding my hand as I got out so I wouldn't trip. He covered my eyes with his free hand, keeping my other in his as he guided me somewhere, pressing his chest against my back as we walked together. I laughed as I stumbled slightly and he caught me before I could go far. He pulled me to a stop, whispering in my ear to keep my eyes shut as he lowered his hand. He wrapped his arm around my waist, keeping me against him, and left a lingering kiss on my neck before telling me to open my eyes. I was buzzing with excitement and curiosity, though the surprise didn't really matter. I was ecstatic to just be here with him again. I loved Ireland.

"Edward!" I exclaimed breathily once my eyes opened and I'd gathered my surroundings. We were in the hills, miles away from the nearest village, hours away from the nearest city, and exactly where I'd been wishing we'd return to. The two-story stone house that sat on the incline not far from the rocky shoreline was just how I'd remembered it, only better. It was grey stone, with large bay windows that looked out over the shore. The wrap-around porch was railed with white oak. And the driveway was cobblestone. The wind was strong today, whipping our hair around, making it dance, my chestnut mingling with his bronze. His hand still clasped mine tightly as his eyes watched my face intently, smiling crookedly at my excitement. He'd done well and he knew it.

"You really are in love with this place, aren't you love?" Edward whispered easily in my ear, and I nodded vehemently in affirmation. I spun around, locking my arms around his neck, and throwing myself in his arms as he lifted me up off my feet slightly, holding me against him as we kissed.

"You know I do." I exclaimed breathily as our lips parted for a moment. Edward smiled, pleased by my reaction, and his eyes lit up as he set me down on my feet.

"Good, because it's yours." He told me matter-of-factly while I rushed towards the house. I stopped, turning around to look at him, still standing in the driveway, watching me amusedly.

"What?"

"It's yours Isabella. I got the deed last month." He told me proudly, catching up to me in front of the porch steps. I kept glancing between his face and the house. No way, it couldn't be true. He really…

"Oh my god," I breathed out in disbelief. Edward closed the distance between us, sliding his arm around my waist, and pulling me into him for another kiss. When he paused in the kiss, pulling back slightly, he murmured against my lips.

"Happy anniversary, my love…" his velvety voice caressed me in synch with his lips. And I completely blanched with happiness.

"Oh Edward…" I swooned, sagging in his arms as he continued to ravish me. He chuckled against me, sending tingles through me at the feel of his chest rumbling against my own. He scooped me up in his arms, cradling me to his chest, and leapt up the steps, rushing into the house and straight up the stairs towards the master bedroom we'd claimed as our own last year, during our honeymoon. I briefly worried that my heart would give out from perfection and I would die of happiness right there, but then all-encompassing lust coursed through me as he threw me down on the bed and covered my body with his own, and I knew my heart could take it.

**The End**

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_A/N: Special thanks to… everyone who reviewed. You kept me going and I'm glad you enjoyed the story. This is one of my all time favorite pieces of self-work. And I am not sure I would have had the drive to see it through this well to the end without all of your reviews and encouragements. I love you all, thank you. And if you really enjoyed my story-telling and writing then you might enjoy my other stories. Keep a look out for my upcoming Twilight stories—of which there are quite a few already in the works for development. Thank you again, and much appreciation and love._

_Sarah_


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